


Kink Menagerie

by Triangulum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Against a Wall, Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Begging, Bladder Control, Body Swap, Body Worship, Breathplay, Breeding, Cis Female Stiles Stilinski, Come Inflation, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Doctor Peter Hale, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Enemas, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fisting, Fucking Machines, Full Shift Werewolves, Humiliation, Impact Play, Incest, Kinktober, Lactation Kink, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Object Insertion, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paddling, Past Child Abuse, Prostate Massage, Prostitute Peter Hale, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rope Bondage, Scars, Sex Club, Sex Toys, Shotgunning, Size Difference, Size Queen Stiles Stilinski, Sleepy Sex, Spanking, Suspension, Temperature Play, Tentacles, Touch-Starved, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, Wax Play, Xenophilia, pack orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:31:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 35,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Stiles is bent over Peter's knees, his red ass in the air. The skin is warm to the touch and he whines when Peter rubs his hand over it. He's had twenty spankings so far, not much more than he's used to, but Peter's hitting him harder than usual. Stiles had shyly come to him and asked if Peter could spank him, and really make him feel it. Peter happily obliged.OrKinktober 2017 things!





	1. Peter/Stiles, Spanking, Sleepy Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I got sucked into Kinktober. I'll try to do one for each day, but we'll see how that goes. Pairings/kink will be reflected in each chapter title, and tags will be added as I go. 
> 
> Also, none of these are related to each other. Totally self-contained little pieces.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 - spanking and sleepy sex

\---Spanking---

"We're close," Peter says. "You've been so good for me. Just ten more."

Stiles is bent over Peter's knees, his red ass in the air. The skin is warm to the touch and he whines when Peter rubs his hand over it. He's had twenty spankings so far, not much more than he's used to, but Peter's hitting him harder than usual. Stiles had shyly come to him and asked if Peter could spank him, and really make him feel it. Peter happily obliged.

Peter rubs his hand over Stiles' ass before pulling back and bringing his hand down. The smacking sound echoes throughout Peter's room, but it can't cover the sound of Stiles crying out. Peter rubs soothing circles over the stinging flesh, making Stiles shake.

"That's one," Peter says.

Another slap.

"Two."

Stiles is writhing in Peter's lap, his hard cock pressing against Peter's thigh. Peter allows it. He likes it when Stiles squirms. 

Another slap.

"Three."

Stiles is crying, his face buried in Peter's sheets. Peter thinks he's never looked more beautiful.

Another slap.

"Four."

Peter pauses to rub his hands over Stiles' red cheeks, pulling them apart to rub a dry finger over his hole. Stiles' breath hiccups and he pushes backward into the touch, but Peter pulls away. He spanks him on the upper thighs, turning the creamy, pale skin pink. Stiles wails.

"Five."

"Please," Stiles whines. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" Peter asks. If Stiles says 'red', it all stops. Peter's pretty sure Stiles isn't there, but he waits patiently, rubbing a soothing hand over his baby boy's hot skin, waiting for what he's going to say.

"Please don't stop," Stiles whines.

"Oh sweetheart," Peter says. He brings his hand down hard for six, seven, and eight. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Stiles whines, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy," under his breath, clutching at the blankets underneath him.

"Just two more," Peter says. "You're being so good, taking this so well."

Stiles just moans, pressing his ass back into Peter's hand. Peter hums, trailing his fingers in random patterns over the red skin, then spanks him hard, making Stiles' body rock forward in his lap. 

"That's nine."

Stiles whimpers, holding his body as still as he can, muscles quivering. Peter doesn't do anything for a long moment, letting the anticipation build until Stiles is shaking in his lap. As soon as he whines, "Daddy!" Peter strikes, harder than he has all night. Stiles lets out a shout that cuts off in a sob, the white outline of Peter's hand print almost immediately turning a dark red. Stiles' ass will be beautifully bruised and he'll be sitting very gingerly tomorrow.

Peter pulls Stiles upright until he's sitting in Peter's lap, chest to chest. He kisses the tears on Stiles' face, running his hands up and down his back. Stiles buries his face in Peter's neck, body still shaking.

"That was ten," Peter murmurs. "You were so good for me, Stiles. Such a good boy for me."

"Daddy, please," Stiles begs, rolling his hips so his hard cock brushes against the front of Peter's jeans.

"Go ahead, baby boy. You've earned it," Peter says.

Stiles moans and immediately starts rolling his hips harder, rubbing his cock against Peter. Peter's hard in his jeans, but he ignores it, letting his boy hump against him desperately. Peter can get off later, this is for Stiles. Stiles is whining Peter's name, whether he's aware of it or not, nails digging into Peter's shirt as he chases his release. Peter's arms are wrapped around Stiles, keeping him from tumbling off his lap (it wouldn't be the first time). 

Stiles gasps Peter's name and stills in his arms as he comes against Peter's t-shirt. Peter kisses his temple, murmuring words of praise as Stiles trembles in his arms. Stiles nuzzles against Peter's jaw, something he's picked up from Peter that never fails to make him smile.

Peter stands, gently lifting Stiles, and lays him down on the bed. Peter strips out of his clothes quickly and slides in behind Stiles, wrapping his arms him. Stiles rolls over, twisting around until his face is buried in Peter's chest, head tucked under Peter's chin. 

In a bit, Peter will run a warm bath for Stiles to soothe the aches, and rub lotion over his bruised skin when he's done. For now, he lets Stiles cuddle up against him, coming down from their session slowly. He can't wait to see Stiles walk tomorrow.

\---Sleepy Sex---

Stiles wakes up slowly. He's warm and comfortable, buried under Peter's soft blanket. Peter is pressed up against his back, arm draped over his waist. It's gray and rainy outside Peter's bedroom window, Stiles' favorite kind of October day. He stretches a bit and Peter groans, pressing his hard cock against Stiles' ass. Stiles smiles and rolls his hips back. Peter's arm tightens around Stiles and his lips brush against the nape of Stiles' neck.

"Good morning," Peter mumbles. His voice is deep and rough with sleep, and it makes something shiver through Stiles. Peter trails his hand down Stiles' nude body, wrapping around his hard cock. "Is this for me?"

Stiles just moans, pressing back harder against Peter's hard cock. Peter groans and rolls his hips again, rubbing his hard cock against Stiles. Stiles looks over his shoulder, grinning softly him. Peter's hair is mussed from sleep and his eyes aren't full open yet, and he's too adorable to be allowed. 

Peter reaches across Stiles for the lube on the nightstand and dips his hand between Stiles' legs. He's still a bit wet and open from last night, so two of Peter's fingers slide in easily. Stiles sighs, spreading his thighs wider for Peter. Neither of them feel the need to talk, content to just touch each other slowly.

Stiles mewls when Peter positions his cock at his entrance. Peter's still spooning him and merely lifts Stiles' leg, pressing his cock against Stiles' wet hole, pushing in slowly. Stiles moans, eyes closing. It doesn't matter that they've been sleeping together for a year, he'll never get enough of Peter filling him up. And he'll never get enough of this. The soft, unhurried morning sex where neither of them have anywhere to be, with no sense of urgency. They're both happy to just indulge in the slow grind of their bodies together.

Stiles loves that he's the only one who gets to see Peter this way, sleep-rumpled and soft. He groans as Peter brushes over his prostate, so he does it again, quicker. Stiles takes his cock in hand, jacking himself slowly to the rhythm of Peter's thrusts. It's lazy and unhurried, so Stiles is a little surprised when his orgasm sneaks up on him. He starts tensing, pleasure building, and Peter sets his teeth against Stiles' throat, right over the mark he'd sucked into his skin last night.

Stiles gasps Peter's name, coming over his fist. Peter fucks him through it with easy thrusts, hand tightening on Stiles' hip as he gets closer. Stiles mewls, clutching at Peter's hand as Peter comes, groaning against Stiles' skin. Peter doesn't move, cock nestled deep inside Stiles, and merely wraps his arms around him, nuzzling against the back of his neck. Stiles sighs happily, breath catching every once in a while as Peter's cock jerks inside him.

They'll lie here for a while, maybe doze off, then get up and shower together. They're having dinner with Stiles' dad later, but they have nothing to do until then besides cuddle up on the couch, Peter reading while Stiles does some homework. It's Stiles' favorite kind of day with Peter.


	2. Peter/Stiles, Watersports and Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - watersports and dirty talk

Stiles shifts awkwardly on Peter's couch, crossing and uncrossing his legs. His bladder is uncomfortably full, thanks to Peter handing him bottles of water all afternoon. Peter sits next to him, arm around his shoulder as they watch TV, seemingly unaware of Stiles' plight. Stiles couldn't even tell you what they're watching, too focused on his bladder.

When Stiles shifts again, clenching his thighs to see if that helps (it doesn't), Peter reaches for the half empty water bottle on the coffee table in front of them and wordlessly hands it to Stiles. Stiles stares at Peter incredulously. 

"You're kidding, right?" Stiles asks.

Peter just raises an eyebrow at him. Okay, not kidding. Stiles swallows hard and uncaps the water bottle, very aware of Peter's eyes on him. He takes a deep breath and drinks the rest of the water quickly, groaning as he leans forward and sets the empty bottle back down on the table. 

"Good boy," Peter says. 

Peter pats Stiles on the lower belly, right over his bladder, making Stiles gasp. He swears he can feel the liquid sloshing around inside of him and he closes his eyes, desperate not to lose control on Peter's couch.

Stiles sits as still as he can through the rest of the episode of whatever drama Peter's watching, ignoring the desperate twinges. He knows Peter likes pushing him, and he knows that Peter's waiting to see how long he can hold out. And Stiles, Stiles is stubborn, okay? And he's lasted hours, but right now he doesn't really know how much longer he can wait. 

The pressure becomes too much as a few drops of urine leak out of him, making Stiles gasp and clench his legs together. Peter notices immediately, can problem smell it, and looks over at him with a grin. Stiles whimpers, grasping at Peter's thigh tightly. 

"Peter," Stiles whines. "I need...I have to _go_."

"I know, let's get you up," Peter says.

Stiles groans as Peter tugs him to his feet, needing a second to steady himself. Standing definitely doesn't help, all that liquid inside of him moving around. Peter keeps a hold of Stiles' hand as he leads him through the apartment and to his bathroom. He strips Stiles of his shirt, then pants and boxers, waiting patiently until Stiles steps out of them to kick them aside. Peter takes off his clothes too, leaving them where they fall, and guides Stiles into the shower stall.

Peter's shower is huge, easily big enough for five people to stand comfortably, and enclosed by glass. Stiles stands in the middle, breathing shallowly and Peter steps in behind him, resting his hands on Stiles' hips. Stiles braces one hand on the shower wall, body tense.

"Come on, sweetheart," Peter cajoles. "You said you have to pee. Go ahead."

Stiles groans. He tries, but it's hard to override years of training, especially when there's someone else with him. He reaches down for his cock, hoping to encourage the stream to come, but Peter slaps his hand away.

"Ah ah. You're going to piss all over yourself like the little slut you are," Peter says. 

Stiles whines, a fine tremble running through his body.

"Peter, please," Stiles whimpers.

"Do you need help, sweetheart?" Peter croons, hands tightening on Stiles' hips. Stiles nods rapidly. "Let me hear your say it."

Stiles knows what Peter wants him to say, they'd discussed it beforehand, but he doesn't know if he can. He's so full that when he looks down, his normally flat belly is distended, a little bulge where his bladder is.

"Please help me piss myself," Stiles whispers, but Peter hears him.

"Of course, baby," Peter says.

The hand on Stiles' hip curves around to his stomach, right over the little bulge. Peter runs his hand over it softly, teasingly. Then, without warning, he presses down. A few droplets leak out and Stiles groans, legs shaking. Peter massages over his bladder, the pressure amazing, and grinds his hard cock against Stiles' ass. Stiles would be hard too, he's helplessly turned on, but he just needs to pee so _badly_

"Let go, sweetheart," Peter says.

Peter presses again on Stiles' belly, even harder than the last time, and Stiles can't hold back anymore. He groans in relief as piss flows out of him, running down his legs, Peter keeping up the pressure on his belly. It seems to go on forever, his full bladder taking so long to empty. Peter murmurs in Stiles' ear the whole time, tells him what a good little piss whore he is, how pretty he looks like this, how much Peter loves seeing him desperate and squirming. 

Stiles is gasping by the time he's done, the last of his piss draining out of him. Peter presses a kiss behind him ear and leans forward, turning on the shower. The water is cold at first, making Stiles jerk, but it warms up quickly. Peter takes the soap and rubs it over Stiles' skin, covering him in suds. Stiles' cock hardens between his legs as Peter washes him because fuck, that's the hottest thing he's ever done. 

"Gonna fuck me, big bad?" Stiles asks as Peter's hard cock brushes his ass.

"Soon," Peter says. "I have to clean up my little piss whore first."

Stiles groans, letting his head fall back onto Peter's shoulder. When they'd discussed this, they'd agreed to try it and see if it's something they'll want to do in the future. Stiles thinks it's safe to say it's a yes for both of them.


	3. Peter/Stiles, Public Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - public sex

Peter claps a hand over Stiles' mouth, stifling his moan. They're in the large coat closet of the Beacon Grand Hotel, Stiles' suit pants around his thighs. Peter has him pressed against the wall, fucking into him from behind. The hand that had been around Stiles' throat is now over his mouth, Peter's other hand holding him tight around the waist.

Peter hates these benefit galas. It's not that he has anything against philanthropy, but he'd just rather write the donation check and be done with it than be paraded around for the Beacon Hills elite. Talia doesn't agree though, and since she's his alpha, he has to go when she orders him. Her jaw had ticked when Peter had arrived with Stiles (she'd rather people think Peter is single and try to curry Peter's affection through favors to his alpha) but she had been smart enough not to say anything.

Stiles looks ravishing in his charcoal grey suit, one that Peter had picked out for him especially. Peter'd been watching Stiles all night as they drifted between groups, people flirting with him shamelessly, and when an upstart employee from the mayor's office had trailed her hand down Stiles' arm, Peter had had enough, tugging Stiles into the coat closet with him.

Stiles whines, arching his back and Peter thrusts into him. Even though they're being as quiet as they can, there's no doubt that other wolves at the gala know exactly what they're doing, and the thought makes Peter's cock jerk inside Stiles. He wants to mark him thoroughly, wants everyone in the ballroom to know exactly who Stiles belongs to.

Stiles' body starts to tense, his mewls getting higher and closer together. He reaches down, taking his cock in hand and stroking himself quickly. Peter thrusts harder, slamming into Stiles' prostate over and over. His hole clenches around Peter as he comes, teeth sinking into the meat of Peter' hand. Peter groans, rabbiting his hips for a few more moments until he stills, emptying himself deep inside of Stiles.

They stand there for a bit, breathing harshly through the aftershocks of their orgasms. Stiles groans when Peter pulls out, probably unhappy with the thought of having come dripping out of him all night, but Peter pulls out a thick plug he'd put in his jacket pocket for just this moment. He presses it into Stiles slowly, working the widest part in gently until it slides home. Stiles' hands twitch on the wall as the plug settles, brushing his oversensitive prostate.

"Everyone will be able to smell it," Peter murmurs and he pulls Stiles' pants back up. He spins Stiles around, running his nose up his jawline. "Everyone will know you're mine."

"Possessive bastard," Stiles grumbles, but he kisses him anyway.

Peter tucks himself back into his jeans and straightens his hair, then does the same for Stiles, before taking his hand and tugging him out of the coat closet. They have philanthropy to do, after all.


	4. Peter/Stiles, Begging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - begging

Stiles is so pretty when he begs, amber eyes wide and pleading. He plays it up sometimes, knowing how much Peter loves to see him desperate, but it's when he's his most needy, overwhelmed and aching to come, that Peter thinks he's his most beautiful. 

"Peter," Stiles whines, arching his back. "Please."

Stiles is lying on Peter's dark blue sheets, nude and glistening with sweat. Peter's fucking him with a thick silicone cock, has been for the last half hour. It's a new toy, wider than the dildo Peter usually fucks him with. They're working Stiles up to taking Peter's knot, using larger and larger toys to get his slutty hole ready to be filled with something that thick. 

Peter's cock is hard and leaking between his thighs, always is when he has Stiles like this, but he ignores it. Stiles' hole is red and puffy from abuse, stretched wide around the girth of the toy. Peter shoves the toy in as deep as it'll go, making Stiles cry out and arch off the bed. Peter just hums, rotating the toy inside Stiles until he's keening. 

"Please," Stiles whines. "I need to come, Peter, please!"

"Hmm, not yet," Peter says. 

Stiles' whine turns into a gasp as Peter nips at his inner thigh, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. Stiles' cock is hard and leaking, flushed deep red with need. Peter ignores it and pulls away, twisting the dildo in Stiles.

"Please," Stiles whimpers under his breath. "Please, please..."

Peter doesn't think he knows he's doing it, is so lost in the sensation and desperate need to come that the words are just spilling from him. Peter just keeps fucking him with the toy, purposefully avoiding Stiles' prostate except for every few minutes when he grinds the silicone cock in, making Stiles keen and shake.

Stiles can't stop begging, pleading with Peter to let him come. His eyes are pleasure-glazed, hands gripping the sheets on either side of him to keep himself from touching his cock. Peter's so proud, and tells him so, tells Stiles how good he's being, how proud Peter is that he's taking that thick cock.

"You'll be ready for me soon," Peter croons. "When I can work a few fingers in your slutty little hole next to this, I can give you my knot."

"I want it," Stiles whines. "Want you knot. Want you to fill me up and breed me."

Peter groans, grip tightening on the toy. 

"Okay, sweetheart," Peter murmurs. "You've been good, you can come."

Stiles cries out his thanks, immediately wrapping his hand around his cock. Peter fucks him harder with the toy, slamming into his prostate. It barely takes anything before Stiles is coming, shooting white all over his belly. Peter doesn't take out the toy, leaves the thick dildo inside Stiles, forcing him open. He crawls up the bed next to Stiles, leaning on one elbow to watch. Stiles' eyes are closed, his whole body trembling with the pleasure shooting through him. He reaches for Peter and takes his hand, clinging tightly.

"Did you mean it?" Stiles asks breathlessly. "I can have your knot soon?"

"Of course, love," Peter says. "We just need to make sure you're nice and loose so I don't hurt you."

"Of course I'm loose, my hole's ruined," Stiles grumbles, though Peter can smell the spike of arousal at the words.

"Oh no baby, your hole is perfect. Needy and sloppy, just like I love," Peter says, tapping the base of the toy. Stiles mewls, clutching tighter at Peter. Peter chuckles. "Soon, love."


	5. Stiles/Erica, Body Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - body swap

"This is surreal," Stiles says, looking down at his hands. His voice is higher than normal, and his hands are smaller, more delicate-looking. He also has curvier hips, large breasts, and most importantly, to him, between his legs is a vagina.

"Tell me about it," Erica says. 

They're in the loft with the pack, everyone in a confused state of disbelief. The witch had hit them with a spell and at first they hadn't realized what had happened except for Erica and Stiles were on the ground, unconscious. As soon as they woke up, that's when the weirdness started, because Erica and Stiles are in the wrong bodies. Stiles can't stop staring because it's fucking surreal to be looking at himself, especially when someone else is walking around as him.

"Deaton says it'll wear off in a few days," Derek says. "Until then, you're just going to have to deal with it."

Erica looks at Stiles, a mischievous look on her (his?) face.

"Yeah, we'll deal with it," she says. "Totally fine."

"Uh, yeah," Stiles says. "We're going to go deal with it. At, uh, my house."

Derek sighs heavily as Erica takes Stiles' hand and drags him from the loft.

"We're going to get one opportunity like this in our life, are we going to waste it?" Erica asks.

"Fuck no," Stiles says.

"Good."

As soon as they're at Stiles' house and in his bedroom, they're stripping out of their clothes and getting on the bed, hands roaming their temporary bodies. Stiles' nipples are much more sensitive now, and he spends a good ten minutes just playing with his breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and pinching and twisting his nipples.

There's a throbbing between his legs, wetness smearing his thighs and it's so different from how he normally feels. He likes it though, likes the ache. He dips his hands between his thighs, tentatively touching his wet clit. Pleasure jolts through him and he gasps, thighs twitching.

Erica grins next to him, her hand wrapped loosely around her cock. Stiles would be embarrassed having someone else see him that way, play with his body like that, but college has been great for his self esteem and it's strangely erotic to watch his body like this. 

"Feels good, right?" Erica asks. Her voice is deep and husky with desire, and Stiles never has heard himself like that before. 

"Yeah," he gasps, sliding two fingers into his dripping cunt. "Fuck, okay this is great."

"Mmhmm," Erica moans, grip tightening on her cock. 

They explore their bodies, coaxing pleasure and finding erogenous zones they don't usually have. Stiles cries out in orgasm, his pussy clenching around his fingers as he comes. Erica's lounging next to him, come on her stomach, her soft cock resting between her legs.

"Wow," Stiles says, panting. "Okay, I need to do that again."

Erica rolls over him, positing herself between his legs.

"What are you - oh!" 

Erica lowers her mouth between his thighs, licking at his hot cunt. 

"If I play with myself just right, I can come again," Erica says. "Let's see if you can, too."

Erica plunges two long fingers into Stiles' cunt, making him shout. Yeah, he can understand why his fuck buddies like his fingers now. She mouths at his clit, flicking her tongue over it and sucking it into her mouth. Stiles feels himself tighten up and a second later he's coming again, fluid gushing between his thighs.

Stiles' chest is heaving, his whole body feeling oversensitive and tingly. Erica smirks and crawls up his body, her cock nudging at his opening. Stiles wants it suddenly, desperately. He hadn't realized how empty he is until now, and he needs to be filled.

"Do it," he says.

Erica grins and rolls her hips forward, sliding inside him. Stiles groans, eyes closing as he's stretched open. His cock isn't the thickest, but he's long, and it hits a spot inside him that makes him quiver.

"God," Erica says, voice gravely. "I never really cared when guys said I'm tight, but fuck this is incredible."

She pushes in experimentally, quickly picking up a rhythm until she's thrusting into Stiles, making his breasts bounce on his chest (and isn't that a weird feeling?). He takes his nipples in his fingers, twisting and pinching the sensitive nubs as Erica fucks him hard and fast.

"How are you so good at this?" Stiles pants out.

"I have a strap on," Erica says, pulling one of Stiles' legs over she shoulder so she can plunge deeper into him. "Mechanics are similar."

Stiles can't say anything to that, because the new angle is incredible and shockingly, he thinks he's going to come again. Erica seems to be able to tell, because she drops a hand between his legs and plays with his clit. It feels so much better than when he did it, probably since she knows exactly how her body likes to be touched, and soon he's tightening up around her cock, cunt spasming as he comes again.

Erica shouts, the clenching around her cock too much and she spills inside Stiles, cock jerking as she comes. She drops Stiles' leg from her shoulder and collapses forward, covering Stiles' body with her own. Her cock is still nestled up inside Stiles' pussy.

"Fuck," she groans. "We're awesome."

"Fuck yeah we are," Stiles says. "And to think, we have two more days of this."


	6. Derek/Kira, Size Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - size difference

Derek groans, hands tightening around Kira's slim waist. She's shirtless, wearing just a short plaid skirt and a bra, straddling his lap. The loft is empty save for them and she's grinding against the bulge in his jeans. He leans forward, sucking a mark on the swell of her breast. Kira moans, arms tightening around the back of his neck.

They'd be watching movies with the pack, and everyone had eventually drifted out, leaving just Derek and Kira. As soon as Peter and Stiles, the last of them, had left, Kira'd crawled into Derek's lap, kissing him hungrily. 

Derek runs his hands up her back, unsnapping her bra and tossing it to the side. Her breasts are creamy and soft, nipples plump and pink. Derek sucks a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hard bud. Kira cries out, grinding harder against him. He loves how sensitive she is, how he's sure he could make her come just from playing with her pretty little nipples.

Derek doesn't want that for tonight, though. He wants, needs, to be inside her. Derek lays her on the couch and crawls on top of her, covering her body with his. She's so small under him, a full half-foot shorter than he is. She's narrow where he's broad, petite where he's large. His hands are huge on her waist, on her throat. His cock is thick and long and he'd been worried about hurting her at first, but she'd assured him she can take it.

Kira grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. She runs delicate hands over his chest and torso, mapping out his body as if she hasn't had him dozens of times. Derek doesn't mind, loving her small hands exploring every inch of him. 

Before she can reach for the button of his jeans, Derek scoots backwards on the couch, positioning himself between her thighs. He pushes her skirt up, revealing black lacy panties. Derek groans and ducks down, mouthing at her through the wet fabric. Kira sighs happily, fingers twining in his hair. She smells amazing, tastes even better, and Derek pushes aside her panties, needing to get to the source. 

Kira moans as Derek laves at her wet pussy, tongue pressing into her as deep as it will go before dragging up, swirling around her hard little clit. Kira rolls her hips, pressing her cunt down against his face. Derek's beard is scraping her inner thighs, making the skin red and tender, but he knows she likes that, likes the reminder of him between her thighs with each step she takes. 

Derek wraps his big hands around her slim thighs, spreading her wider for him. He noses at her clit, dipping his tongue inside her, savoring the taste. Kira's legs quiver on either side of his head, the scent of her arousal deepening as she gets closer to the edge. Derek focuses on her clit, flicking his tongue over the little bundle of nerves, and slips a finger inside her. Kira shrieks as he massages her g-spot, coming over his fingers. 

Derek eases her through it, giving her soft little kitten licks until she's pushing his head away. He presses a kiss over the mark he left on her thigh and stands to take off his jeans and boxers. Kira licks her lips, looking at him hungrily. His cock is hard and thick, longer than average. It looks huge next to Kira, but she's always needy for it, always loves being fucked by him. She spreads her thighs wide, showing off her wet, swollen cunt. 

Derek growls and surges forward, covering her slight body with his own. His cock nudges at her slick opening, spreading her folds as he presses forward. Kira moans as he slides into her tight heat, eyes closing in pleasure. She's beautiful like this, split open on Derek's thick cock, her sweet little cunt clinging to him.

"Come on," Kira says, bucking up her hips, hissing at the drag of his cock inside her. "Please, Derek..."

Derek can never deny her anything. He rolls his hips, easing his length in and out of her. He always starts slow, wanting to give her time to adjust to having something so large inside her, but soon she's encouraging him to go faster, gripping his biceps as he thrusts into her. Her head is thrown back, long neck bared to him, and Derek can't help but bite at her throat, mouthing what will be a vivid bruise.

Kira's breath gets short, letting breathy little moans escape her. She's tightening around him, biting her lip to keep from shouting. She's getting close again, helped by the dirty little grinds of Derek's hips.

"Let me hear you," Derek growls when she covers her mouth.

"Derek," Kira whines. "Derek, I'm gonna come."

"Good girl," Derek purrs. "Come for me."

Derek reaches between them, circling gently over her soaked clit. Kira screams Derek's name as she comes, sweet little cunt squeezing around his thick cock. Her nails dig into his skin, her head thrown back as her body shakes. 

Derek growls and pounds into her harder, fucking into her pliant body. He sets his teeth against the mark on her neck when he comes, spilling deep inside of her. 

He rolls them gently, sandwiching Kira between the hard lines of his body and the back of the couch, his cock still nestled deep inside her. She nuzzles against his chest, her head easily fitting under his chin. 

She feels so small and delicate in his arms, even though he knows she's stronger than steel. He'd love to stay like this, his body a barrier between her and the worst of the world, but soon another threat will come and they'll throw themselves into the violent fray. When they're done, he'll take her again like this, giving her everything she asks.


	7. Peter/Stiles, Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - body worship

Stiles notices, but he doesn't think anyone else does. Peter's always at the edge of the pack, in it but not. Close, but not. No one touches Peter, instead giving him a wide berth. Peter doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to, because Stiles notices.

Stiles also understands werewolves. He understands how important touch is and how tactile they are, and he understands just how miserable Peter must be without it. Stiles brushes his fingers over Peter's hand when they're in the loft's kitchen together, putting together a lunch while they research the latest threat. Peter startles so badly that he drops the knife in his hand, and lets out a whine deep in his throat before he can stop it. He abandons the sandwich and retreats to his room for the rest of the night. 

Stiles makes it his mission after that to touch Peter more. He squeezes the man's shoulder when he walks by. He makes sure to sit next to him on the couch, the lines of their bodies touching. He even hugs Peter. He does this often enough that Peter eventually stops flinching at Stiles' touch and melts into it instead, clutching Stiles to him like he's the last tangible thing in the world.

Stiles kisses Peter in the empty loft with the full moon shining in the grimy windows.

"I don't need your pity," Peter snaps. He doesn't push away, though.

"It's not pity, you idiot, I want to," Stiles says. He takes Peter's hand, pressing to his chest so he can feel his heartbeat as well as hear it. "I want to."

Peter swallows harshly, his eyes wide. Stiles kisses him again, and this time Peter's kissing back, arms tight around Stiles. He kisses him hungrily, like he wants to devour him whole. Stiles would let him.

Peter's room is decorated in deep blues and grays, perfectly fitting for him, but Stiles doesn't bother to stare at the decor, just makes sure to get Peter nude and on the bed as soon as he can. He's fucking gorgeous, which Stiles had objectively known, but having him bare before him is a whole new experience. Stiles strips himself quickly, all for naked equality.

"Let me do this for you," Stiles murmurs.

Peter makes a questioning noise, then sighs as Stiles sits between his thick thighs, running his hands slowly up Peter's legs. Peter closes his eyes and lets himself be taken over by the sensation. Stiles' fingers trail invisible designs over his skin, working up to his powerful thighs. Peter's cock is hard between his legs, but Stiles ignores it for now, continuing his perusal of Peter's body.

Peter's abdominal muscles jump under Stiles' hands as he smooths his touch over his torso. Stiles leans down, pressing a kiss over Peter's heart, and moves his hands up, tracing over his collarbones and broad shoulders. He purposefully doesn't touch Peter's neck, Peter's already showing him so much trust, but then Peter tilts his head back, baring his throat. Stiles' breath catches. He moves slowly, giving Peter plenty of time to move away, and sets his teeth lightly against the skin of Peter's throat, then presses a soft kiss there. Peter whines high in his throat, hands wrapping around Stiles' wrists.

Peter opens his eyes, pupils blown wide with need. Stiles kisses him again, nudging their noses together. Peter groans into the kiss, hands tightening on Stiles.

"I've got you," Stiles murmurs against Peter's lips. "Do you trust me?"

Peter nods immediately and it's a heady thing. Stiles swallows hard and moves down, kissing a trail down Peter's chest and stomach. Peter wraps his hand in Stiles' hair, not tugging, just holding on. Stiles nips at the vee of Peter's hips, a spot he's always weak for when he sees him shirtless, sucking a mark that will fade in moments. 

Peter's cock is hard and red, just as thick as Stiles had thought it would be, and he's done waiting. He licks a stripe up Peter's dick, swirling his tongue around the head, before sinking down, taking Peter deep into his throat. Peter groans, hand tightening nearly painfully in Stiles' hair. 

Stiles has learned a lot about himself in college, and one of those things is that he's fantastic with his mouth. He uses every skill he has on Peter, changing up the pressure, dragging his tongue up Peter's cock as he bobs his head. He rolls Peter's balls gently in his hand, reaching back to rub Peter's perineum, stimulating the prostate from the outside. 

Peter hisses, hips bucking up slightly like he can't help it. Stiles loves that, loves that when he looks up, Peter's eyes eyes are flashing blue, fang peeking out where Peter's gritting his teeth. _Stiles_ is doing that to him, testing Peter's ironclad self control.

"I'm not going to last much longer," Peter warns, voice deep.

Stiles hums his acknowledgement, hollowing his cheeks and sucking harder. Peter lets out a garbled shout, eyes electric blue as he comes down Stiles' throat. Stiles swallows it all as Peter's cock jerks in his mouth. 

Peter tugs Stiles up his body, kissing him desperately. He reaches between Stiles' legs, taking his hard, leaking cock in hand. Stiles gasps into the kiss and Peter takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, deepening the kiss. Peter knows exactly how to touch him, exactly what he needs, and soon Stiles is coming over Peter's hand with his name on his tongue. 

Peter tenses when Stiles shifts, like he's expecting him to get up and leave, but Stiles just shimmies down the bed a bit, throwing his arm and leg over Peter, resting his head on his shoulder. Peter slowly wraps his arms around Stiles, like he's not sure he's allowed. When Stiles just nuzzles in closer, Peter rubs his cheek over the top of Stiles' head, scenting him even more.

Stiles lies there for a long time, tracing patterns over Peter's chest, tapping out the rhythm over his heart. Peter kisses his forehead, hugs him tight like it's the only time he'll be allowed to do this. It isn't.


	8. Peter/Allison, Face Sitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - face sitting

"You sure?" Allison asks.

"Positive," Peter says.

"Tap my thigh if you need air, okay?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm more than capable of moving you if I need to," Peter says.

Allison nods. That's true, werewolf strength and all that. "Okay," she says.

They're naked in Peter's bed, Peter trailing hot fingers down her bare arms. It's strange that a year ago they'd been on opposite sides, and now Peter's regularly giving her the most intense orgasms of her life, but she's seen stranger things. Werewolves, for one. Curses for another, which is how they got into bed with each other ten months ago in the first place. Plenty of rude gestures and biting words later, they've settled into a truce, one they renew regularly with their bodies.

Peter tugs her over until she's straddling his face. She's still a little self-conscious about this. She's worried about smothering him, a little embarrassed to be in this position (even though she isn't sure why), and there's some very vulnerable about him having her this way. Her worries vanish when he tugs her down and he licks over her wet cunt.

"Fuck," she groans.

Peter had promised this would feel amazing, that the new angle would be incredible, but she hadn't really believed him until now because Jesus Christ, this is fantastic. His noses nudges at her clit, tongue spearing up inside her. Allison cries out, clutching at the headboard in front of her. Peter wraps his hands tight around her thighs, pulling her down until she's grinding on his face.

Peter's so fucking good at this, tongue tracing her folds, flicking teasingly over her clit. He's not trying to make her come yet; he's just toying with her, working her closer to the edge then backing off. Her cunt is throbbing with need and soon she's rolling her hips, trying to get more. 

Peter rumbles approvingly, always thrilled when she takes what she wants, and sucks at her clit, putting amazing pressure on that hard little nub. Her thighs are shaking on either side of his head, her grip on the headboard all that's keeping her upright. Peter seems to sense she's getting desperate, her whines and whimpers getting louder. She refuses to beg, and Peter knows this, but he's a little shit that tries to draw it out of her anyway.

"Peter," Allison hisses, dropping a hand to twist in his hair. 

Peter growls into her hot cunt, making her twitch. She's riding his face, his mouth coaxing her pleasure, until he decides to give her what she needs, focusing all of his attention on her hard little clit. That delicious pressure builds in her, her orgasm so close. Then Peter's claws lengthen, digging into her thighs just this side of drawing blood. Allison screams and comes, gushing over Peter's mouth. She might have a bit of a werewolf kink, so what?

Peter eases her through it with soft little licks until she's falling to the side, collapsing on the bed next to him. His face is wet from her, his eyes dilated with need. She reaches out and in an instant he's hovering over her, thick cock pressing against her soaked entrance. She tilts her hips up, giving him permission, and he slides into her immediately, stretching open her tight little cunt.

Peter fucks her hard and fast, his pace brutal and bruising. Allison wraps her arms around him, holding on tightly as he pounds into her, chasing his orgasm. She'll be sore and swollen when he's done, but she loves when his animalistic side comes out, when he flashes fang and eyes flare blue just because of her. 

"Come on," she urges him, voice breathy. "Come on, alpha. Come inside me."

Peter roars as he comes, biting a livid bruise on her neck. His thick cock jerks inside her, spilling his seed deep in her body. The tension leaves his body and he collapses, half to the side, half on her. Allison doesn't mind, likes feeling his weight on top of her. In a bit he'll get cognitive function back and will bury his fingers inside her, playing with her hot cunt, but for now they're recharging for round two.


	9. Peter/Stiles, Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 - asphyxiation

Peter's hand caresses Stiles' throat, fingers ghosting over the marks he's bitten and sucked into the pale skin. Stiles is breathing hard, biting his lip. There's a vibrating plug nestled inside him and his arms are tied to Peter's headboard. Peter's had him like this for hours, has had him writhing and crying, begging Peter to let him come. 

"I'll give you what you need, sweetheart," Peter croons. 

Peter wraps a hand around Stiles' hard, red cock, making him sob in relief, and tightens the hand around Stiles' throat. He's sure to squeeze the sides, not too much pressure against the front, which would hurt his windpipe. He doesn't cut Stiles' air off completely, just enough to make his arousal spike, sweet and sharp in the air. 

Peter doesn't do this lightly, isn't cavalier about having his love's life literally in his hands. He's concentrating on his heart rate, on making sure Stiles doesn't try to take more than he can. Stiles also has a small stress ball in one of his hands that he'll drop if it gets to be too much. So far, it's not.

Stiles struggles against him, hips bucking up in Peter's touch. He's so beautiful like this, desperate and needy. Peter loosens his grip, letting Stiles' take a few gasping breaths, then he tightens his hand around his throat again, making Stiles' cock jerk in his grip.

"So good for me," Peter murmurs in Stiles' ear. "Look at you, so pretty and tied up."

Stiles chokes out, "Please," and Peter takes pity on him, stroking his cock faster. Stiles is close, his body tensing, the muscles in his abdomen clenching as his orgasm builds. Peter speeds up, swiping his thumb over the tip of Stiles' cock on each stroke. 

Stiles seizes as he comes, cock spurting white over Peter's hand. Peter loosens his grip on Stiles' throat, letting the oxygen rush in as Stiles cries out, sobbing at the force of his orgasm. His whole body is trembling as his pleasure courses through him, hours of teasing finally giving him a release.

Peter presses the button on the bottom of the plug, turning off the vibration. He doesn't take it out though, knowing how much Stiles loves to be filled. He unties Stiles from the headboard, gently massage the aches out of his arms. Stiles rolls onto his side, burying his face in Peter's chest.

"Good, sweetheart?"

"So good," Stiles slurs. "Brain is offline, try again later."

Peter chuckles, pressing a kiss to Stiles' forehead.


	10. Peter/Stiles, Fucking Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 - fucking machine

Stiles has been strapped to the breeding bench of hours. His muscles are a little sore from being in the same position for so long, but he barely notices, too focused on the toy pistoning in and out of him. The fucking machine had been Peter's idea, wanting to watch Stiles mercilessly fucked, but not willing to bring someone else into their bedroom and near his omega.

The toy fucking into him is thick, as thick as Peter and that's saying something. It's been hammering his prostate relentlessly until he comes, then slowing down slightly until he's not so oversensitive, then speeding right up again. His hole is loose and sloppy, slick covering his thighs and dripping onto the floor underneath him. 

Stiles whines, legs shaking as the machine speeds up, fucking into him brutally. Peter's on the couch nearby, watching as Stiles is taken apart, his hand stroking his thick cock. Stiles is desperate for his alpha, for his knot, but Peter had been very clear that he won't be getting it until he thinks Stiles has taken enough from the fucking machine.

Stiles' whole body feel alight, nerves oversensitive from so much stimulation. He's whining high in his throat, hard cock drooling precome between his quivering thighs. Peter hums and stands, circling around until he's standing in front of Stiles. He's close enough that his hard cock is inches from Stiles' face and he doesn't need prompting to wrap his lips around it, desperate to get whatever he can of Peter.

Peter runs his hand through Stiles hair, murmuring, "Good boy," as Stiles licks and sucks at him. It's not the best blowjob he's given, but the machine fucks him forward, forcing him down on Peter's cock with each thrust. It's hard to focus, his mind wrapped in a haze of pleasure as he swallows down his alpha. 

Stiles whimpers when Peter pulls away, but unable to do anything about it with his arms strapped down. Peter circles Stiles until he's behind him and suddenly the machine is off, though the dildo is still buried inside him. Peter traces his fingers around Stiles' rim, red and puffy from abuse. Stiles whines, legs shaking as Peter presses two fingers in next to the toy, stretching him even wider. 

"Please," Stiles begs, voice hoarse. "Please, Peter, I need it."

"And what do you need, sweetheart?" Peter purrs, hooking his fingers inside Stiles and gently tugging his hole even wider. 

"Your knot! Please alpha, I need your knot!"

"Such a good boy for asking so nicely," Peter says. 

Peter tugs the toy out of Stiles, slick running out of him as he does. It takes only a few moments to undo the straps holding Stiles down and lift him into his arms. Stiles curls against his chest, shivering with need, as Peter carries him through their house and into the bedroom. They'd knotted once on the breeding bench on accident and never again. 

Stiles rolls onto his back as soon as Peter sets him on the bed. He knees are too sore from being on all fours for so long, and he wants to see Peter, wants to be able to kiss him while they do this. Peter strips quickly, not leaving Stiles without his touch for too long, then crawls over him, covering his body with his own. He reaches between Stiles' legs, three fingers easily slipping into his gaping hole.

"You did so well," Peter says, withdrawing his fingers and positioning the tip of his cock at Stiles' entrance. "So well for me, love."

Stiles moans as Peter presses in, cock sliding deep into him. He's tender from being fucked for so long by the toy, but not enough that he doesn't want this, doesn't crave that fat alpha knot stretching him wider. Peter starts slowly, but that's not what Stiles needs. He tilts his hips up, matching Peter's thrusts until Peter fucks him harder, grip tight on Stiles' hips.

It doesn't take long until the base of Peter's cock is thickening, knot expanding. Peter doesn't slow down, fucking Stiles with it harshly until it's too big to withdraw, locked inside Stiles' body. He takes Stiles' cock in his hand as he rotates his hips, grinding his knot against Stiles' prostate. Stiles is so on edge, so sensitive that he comes almost immediately, clenching down around the knot filling him.

Peter groans and a second later his thick cock is jerking inside Stiles, flooding his insides with his come. He buries his face in Stiles' neck, breath quick as he rides out his orgasm.

When the aftershocks have finally subsided, Peter rolls them gently until Stiles is lying on top of him, Stiles whining as the movement tugs at his sensitive rim. Peter shushes him softly, running soothing hands up his back. Stiles is still trembling slightly, but he feels more grounded now that Peter's buried deep inside him. He can't wait to do this again.


	11. Peter/Stiles, Orgasm Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - orgasm denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is...kind of orgasm denial? It got away from me a bit. Also, I've had a rough week so if you don't like this, well, to be perfectly honest I don't care

Stiles has been good, so good, for weeks. He's milked his prostate everyday just like Peter told him to, and he hasn't touched his cock. He wouldn't have been able to even if he'd wanted to (and oh, how he'd wanted to).

Peter visited three weeks ago with a present: a cock cage, metal and sleek. Stiles had been excited and nervous. They'd talked about it of course, at great length, but talking about it and having his cock actually locked up by his boyfriend are two different things. He'd had a plastic one that was uncomfortable and he couldn't wear for a long period of time, but this new one...yeah, he could wear this long-term.

So it's been three weeks. Three weeks since Peter locked his cock away and took the key with him back to Beacon Hills. Three weeks of having the metal cage keeping him from getting hard, forcing him to piss sitting down, forcing him to orgasm through prostate stimulation only. Three weeks of ruined orgasms because it just isn't the same as when he gets to play with his cock. 

Peter calls or Skypes him nearly every night, talking Stiles through his daily prostate milking. He tells him how good he's doing, how much he's pleasing his daddy. He tells him how pretty he looks with his cute little cock locked safely away. 

Stiles hadn't expected to love this nearly as much as he does. The choice of when he's unlocked is completely out of his hands. His cock is Peter's to control, Peter's to decide to let free. He finds he likes being locked, feeling the weight of the cage between his legs. He's lucky that he doesn't have a dorm mate because he's taken to walking around in his room naked, loving to look down and see it, or take pictures to send to Peter.

But Stiles has a four-day weekend and Peter is coming up to visit! He has a hotel booked, Stiles' homework is done, and it's going to be nothing he him and his partner for four days. Stiles is nearly vibrating with excitement all day, waiting patiently until Peter picks him up.

The hotel is gorgeous, more expensive than anywhere Stiles has ever stayed, and he barely pays attention to any of it because as soon as they're inside their room, Peter has him pressed up against the door, face buried in the crook of his neck, hands roaming Stiles' body. He presses his hand against Stiles' cock through his jeans, making him whimper.

"Show me," Peter growls.

Peter steps back, giving Stiles enough room to tug down his jeans and boxers to mid-thigh, showing off the shiny metal cage. Peter growls, taking Stiles' full, heavy balls in his hand. Stiles whines, resting his head on Peter's shoulder and looking down at where he's being fondled. 

"You look so good like this," Peter says, running his fingers over the cage. Stiles' cock is desperately trying to get hard and it's almost painful how the unforgiving metal keeps that from happening. "All locked up, proof that you're my little boy."

"Yes, Daddy," Stiles whimpers. 

"Strip and get on the bed for me, baby boy," Peter says, stepping back. 

Stiles immediately does as he's told, tearing off his clothes and getting on his hands and knees, just like Peter wants him. There's a heavy plug nestled deep in his hole and Peter's breath catches as he sees it. A moment later Peter is kneeling behind him, tapping at the base of the toy.

"Aren't you just full of surprises?" Peter says. He tugs on the plug, pulling on it until the thickest part is spreading Stiles wide, before letting it go, the large plug settling back inside him. Stiles whimpers. "Don't worry baby boy, I want this just as much as you do. I'm just going to take the edge off first."

Stiles doesn't know what he means, but then Peter is pulling the plug completely out, leaving Stiles sloppy and open. He's not empty for long because soon Peter is pushing two fingers into him, making Stiles sigh. It's been too long since he's hand anyone's fingers inside him but his own, and he's missed the thickness of Peter's digits. Peter rubs over his prostate firmly, making Stiles' cock drool precome onto the bedspread.

"Daddy!" Stiles says. "I'm gonna come if you keep doing that."

"That's the idea, sweetheart," Peter says. "I'm just going to take the edge off so you don't come the second I start playing with your pretty cock."

Stiles blushes red, hiding his face in the pillow. Peter knows exactly how to touch Stiles, has conditioned him well enough that when he says, "Come," Stiles immediately does, locked cock spurting out his release. A ruined orgasm, Stiles has been told it's called. It's a release, but it's not enough. It leaves him hungry for more, and that hunger has been building for three weeks.

Peter rolls Stiles onto his back, looking down at his panting body.

"Such a messy boy," Peter says, looking at the come-covered cage. "Maybe I should keep you locked for longer. You do look so good with your pretty little cock hidden away."

"Please," Stiles whines, arousal jolting through him at the threat of being locked longer. "Please, Daddy. I've been good."

"You have," Peter admits. "Okay, baby."

Peter stands and rummages through his discarded pants pocket, pulling out a long silver chain with the key to Stiles' cage hanging from it. Stiles' heart races, watching Peter caress the metal cage before slowing inserting the key in the lock. He's gentle undoing the cage and easing it off Stiles' sensitive cock and balls, but it still makes Stiles whimper. He can't get hard quite this fast after an orgasm, but his soft cock gives a little twitch of an effort. Peter smirks. 

Peter retrieves the bottle of lube in his suitcase that he'd dropped by the door and crawls between Stiles' legs, spreading his thighs wide. Peter barely has to slick himself, Stiles still wet with lube from the plug, before he's sliding in, stretching Stiles wide. Stiles gasps, grasping at Peter's forearms as he glides all the way in, hips pressing against Stiles' ass. Peter rocks into him with tight, controlled movements, like he's trying to hold himself back. He probably is. Stiles knows that he's not the only one affected by their long separations during the school year.

Stiles is still a teenager though, and he can't be fucked for long, especially for how deprived he's been, without his cock taking notice. It takes a bit, but his dick starts to fill, hardening as Peter fucks into him harder. Stiles has been playing with his hole at Peter's instruction while they've been apart, but nothing he does can compare to this, to how good it feels for Peter to be fucking him full. Nothing can replace the bruises he's sure to have from Peter's hands tight on his waist. Nothing can compare to how hard he comes with Peter takes his cock in hand and growls, "Come for me, baby boy."

When they're done, at least with round one, Stiles lies at Peter's side, leg and arm thrown over his body. Peter's nuzzling at him as subtly (not very) as possible, trying to cover him in as much of his scent as possible. Stiles' heart rate is finally going back to normal and soon he'll have to get up and get cleaned up, but for now, he's content where he is. Maybe they'll even go for round two soon.

"I'm going to make you come as many times as possible this weekend," Peter purrs, brushing his lips over Stiles' temple. "So I hope you enjoy it, because I'm going to be locking your pretty little cock up again before I go."

Stiles' breath catches. Yeah, round two.


	12. Stiles/Nemeton/Peter, Tentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - tentacles

This is such bullshit. Unfortunately, it's necessary bullshit. Stiles is doing this for the pack, for Beacon Hills. He's doing it for Peter, who has been a better alpha than Stiles had ever though possible since he killed the alpha murder twins and inherited their power. 

"You don't have to do this," Peter murmurs. 

They're standing in the clearing of the nemeton, staring at the huge tree stump, Peter's arm around Stiles. Peter's told him this before, and Stiles answers the same as he had then.

"If I want to truly be your emissary, I do. This is the only way to tie myself to the Hale land," Stiles says. "Apparently ancient trees like sex rituals. Who knew."

"Deaton, unfortunately," Peter says.

"Ugh, please don't talk about Deaton when I'm about to get fucked by a plant," Stiles says.

Peter snorts and presses a kiss to his temple. 

"Ready when you are, sweetheart," Peter says.

Stiles takes a deep breath and strips out of his clothes. He'd worn simple sweats and a t-shirt, comfort clothes for when he's done. His tattoos stand out starkly against his pale skin, a mix of complicated druid rune work and images of wolves. It's almost all work he's done to tie himself to the Hale pack and to strengthen his magic. This is the final step. This ritual with the nemeton will tie his spark to the tree and he'll be one of the most powerful emissaries ever to exist. Deaton is terrified. Stiles is thrilled.

Peter kisses Stiles softly and reaches behind him, gently tugging at the plug buried in Stiles' hole. He'd prepared Stiles, working him open for an hour before slipping the plug into him, not wanting to risk him getting hurt. Research tells them this will be a pleasurable experience, but Peter is never willing to take any chances where Stiles' safety is concerned.

"I love you," Peter murmurs against Stiles' lips.

"Love you, too," Stiles says. "I can't believe you're going to watch me get fucked by a magic tree."

Peter snorts and kisses Stiles one more time before stepping back. They both have ritual words they need to say to kick start this, and Peter's are first. He reads from the book they'd brought, his Latin much smoother than Stiles'. Stiles manages his part though, not stumbling over the words as much as he had when they'd practiced. 

As soon as he speaks the last word, Stiles can feel the magic, the tug of the nemeton. The air is electric, charged with the power Peter and Stiles called up. Stiles goes with his instincts, following the pull of the nemeton until he's kneeling on it, hand pressed against the stump. The magic is gentler than Stiles had assumed it would be, coaxing him like the nemeton is grateful to finally have a protector again. 

Stiles isn't sure what to do next. The book had been a bit hazy on that, basically saying that the nemeton would know what to do and take charge. Stiles doesn't have to wait long. Vines twine from the sides of the stump, varying in thickness from the size of his finger to thicker than Peter's cock. He's nervous, heart beat picking up, but the nemeton sends a soothing wave down the connection between them.

The vines guide him down until he's lying on his back on the stump. He can see Peter standing to the side, watching hungrily with his eyes alpha red. The vines wrap around Stiles' ankles, dragging his attention away from his alpha. They twist up his legs, tugging his thighs apart and exposing his wet hole. Their hold doesn't feel confining, but comforting, like a warm caress. More vines wrap around his wrists and chest, rubbing over his nipples and making him gasp, cock twitching between his legs.

The vines between his thighs move up, one tracing around his hole. Stiles' breath hitches as it presses inside slowly. It's thin, barely the size of two of his fingers, and slick. Stiles has a moment to pray that's not sap before it's brushing against his prostate, making him groan. Stiles has a sneaking suspicion whatever the vines are covered in is an aphrodisiac of some kind, because his arousal spikes, making him needy and desperate in a matter of seconds. 

The vine in him pulsates, then starts to retreat, thrusting in and out gently, like it's trying to make sure not to hurt him. Then it thrusts in far, much farther than Peter's cock can reach. It twists deep in his insides, pushing inside him deep enough that when he looks down, he can see the outline of it in his belly and fuck, that's so much hotter than he thought it would be. 

Another vine nudges at his opening, pressing inside next to the first, stretching Stiles wide. The first vine is still pulsating inside him while the second thrusts in and out. Stiles doesn't think he's imagining it thickening inside him, stretching him wider and wider on each thrust. 

Stiles' cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, but the vines holding him down make it impossible for him to reach for it. Instead, thin tendrils wrap around it, slowly twisting and stroking him. The vines over his chest keep running over his nipples, rubbing the hard buds raw. It's complete pleasure, overwhelming and all-encompassing. 

The vines inside Stiles are huge, thicker than anything he's had inside him, including Peter's fist. The stretch isn't painful, and he thinks the nemeton's magic has something to do with that, but it's a lot. His hole is going to be wrecked when they're done, puffy and red and gaping. He knows Peter will want to touch him when it's finished, re-stake his claim on his lover, and he's sure his knot will be in his loose hole tonight.

The thin vines around his cock squeeze tighter, as if they're finally done teasing. They stroke him faster as the vines inside him press insistently against his prostate, pressing even deeper inside him. He's writhing in the vines hold, whimpers and gasps escaping him as he's fucked. His pleasure is building, body tensing up. It's as if the nemeton can sense it and it speeds up, fucking in him hard and fast, squeezing around his cock. 

It's too much, the stimulation pushing him to the very edge, and then he's coming, body spasming. His hole clenches around the vines inside him, cock spurting white over his belly. The nemeton doesn't stop, coaxing every drop of release from him, prolonging the orgasm longer than possible without magic. Stiles is gasping, body trembling as the vines absorb his release, cleaning his torso free of his come, and he feels the bond snap into place. 

Stiles can _feel_ the nemeton like never before, can feel the preserve alive around him, like it's holding his breath to see what would happen. The magic flows through him, making the runes decorating his body glow bright white. The pack bond he has with Peter is wide open, stronger than he's ever felt, and he can feel Peter's excitement and arousal. He can feel the magic pulsing through both of them and the moment it brings Peter to orgasm, the wolf growling, too much sexual power flowing through him from his mate.

When it's finally done, when the aftershocks have subsided and Stiles is a worn out mess, the vines gently release his arms and legs with gentle caresses. The vines inside him shrink back down and slip out of him, leaving him empty and used. Peter's there instantly, gathering Stiles in his arms. 

"Are you all right?" Peter asks, brushes stray hair from Stiles' forehead.

"So good," Stiles says. "Peter, I can...I can _feel_ it. I can feel everything."

"I know," Peter says. "I can, too. And your eyes..."

"What about my eyes?"

"They're glowing."

"Like the darach's?" Stiles asks, alarmed.

"No, nothing like the darach's," Peter assures him. "You did it, love. No one will ever again question your power."

"Our power," Stiles says, because it's true. The ritual had linked the three of them, the nemeton, Peter, and Stiles together, bound them tightly. "No one will challenge us and if they do, they'll lose."

Peter kisses him roughly, both of them still a bit high on the magic. "Let's get you home and cleaned up," he says.

"Okay, but you're going to have to carry me. The big bad emissary is too fucked out to walk," Stiles says.

Peter laughs. "I can do that."


	13. Peter/Stiles, Medical Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 - medical play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, includes enema.

"Don't worry, this is good for you," Peter assures Stiles, running a hand down his bare back.

"It's...Dr. Hale, I don't think I can..." Stiles whines.

"Of course you can," Peter says. "You're doing very well, we're almost done."

Stiles groans, hanging his head between his shoulders. He's on all fours on Peter's examination table, completely nude. His little belly is bulging, distended from the amount of liquid Peter is forcing into his bowels. The enema is three quarters of the way done and he's sure his patient can take it all.

"Hurts," Stiles whimpers.

Peter hums and rubs his hand over Stiles' stomach, rubbing in soothing circles to ease the cramps. Stiles tenses at the increased pressure, but groans as Peter's hand relieves the worst of the cramping, helping the water flow deeper into him. His cock is hard between his thighs and he'd flushed, so embarrassed when Peter had noticed. 

"You're so close," Peter croons, running a soothing hand down Stiles' back. It's not professional, not even close, but as soon as Stiles had come in, Peter had known exactly what he wanted to do to him, and exactly how he would get it.

Stiles' arms can't hold him up anymore and he collapses to his elbows, crying out as the water sloshes around inside of him. The bag is almost empty, meaning Stiles has taken the full four liters. It shows, his normally flat belly round and full. 

"All done," Peter says. "I'm going to remove the nozzle now, don't let anything leak out."

Stiles clenches down tightly as Peter slips the tubing from his hole, but a few trickles still leak out. It's okay, it could be a lot worse. 

"I need...bathroom," Stiles says.

"No," Peter says, rubbing his hand over Stiles' swollen belly.

"No?" Stiles squeaks, eyes wide. "But..I..."

"You need to hold it for ten minutes, then you can let go," Peter says. 

Stiles whines, legs shaking. "I don't know if I can...Dr. Hale, please..."

"Of course you can. It needs to be ten minutes for it to work best. If you don't, we'll have to start all over again," Peter says. Stiles' eyes are filled with tears, his cock hanging hard and red beneath him. "We can get you in a more comfortable position if you'd like," Peter offers.

Stiles instantly shakes his head rapidly, probably too scared to move. Peter continues massaging his bloated stomach, pressing gently to feel the pressure. Stiles mewls whenever Peter does this, cock jerking. There's precome on the table underneath him and Peter's sure when he's done he'll be so embarrassed, but right now he's focused on keeping all that liquid inside him.

Peter had lied. Only five to ten minutes is necessary, but he does love to see his patient squirm. He's impressed with Stiles, at how well he's taking this. He has suspicions he's done this before, a mere novice can't take four whole liters after all, but he doesn't call him on it, just continues rubbing his taut belly.

"Okay," Peter says eventually. "Let's get you up."

Peter carefully helps Stiles off the table, needing to hold him up when he almost collapses as all that water shifts inside him. He guides Stiles to the exam room's attached bathroom, one hand low on his belly like he's pregnant, and tells him to take all the time he needs. Stiles moans gratefully.

While Stiles is emptying himself, Peter straightens the room, cleaning up the equipment and wiping down the exam table for step two. If Stiles thinks Peter is done with him, he is sadly mistaken. 

It takes a long time for Stiles to finally emerge for the bathroom, blushing brightly, a hand pressed against his flat stomach. He's cock is still hard and red between his legs. He eyes the exam table with the footrests extended with wide eyes.

"Hop on up, Stiles," Peter says.

"Why?" Stiles asks.

"I need to finish your examination and make sure everything is okay inside," Peter asks.

"In-inside?" Stiles stammers.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt," Peter says.

"That's what you said about the enema," Stiles says, but he climbs onto the table, setting his feet into the stirrups. 

"You didn't seem to mind," Peter says, looking pointedly at Stiles' cock. Stiles' flush burns brightly. 

Peter puts on a pair of gloves and covers two fingers in medical-grade lubricant. He steps between Stiles' legs, spreading his thighs wide. His hole is pink and clean and so inviting. Peter hums and traces his fingers over Stiles' hole, making him jerk.

"It's okay," Peter says soothingly. "I just need to check your prostate."

"I thought prostate problems only happen when you're old?" Stiles asks, gasping as Peter slides a finger into him.

"A common misconception," Peter says. "And better safe than sorry."

He rotates his finger inside Stiles more than strictly necessary, coaxing him open so he can press in a second finger. Stiles bites back a moan, staring determinedly at the ceiling with his lip between his teeth. Peter pretends to search for Stiles' prostate, making the boy more and more tense, until he brushes his finger over the sensitive gland inside of him. 

Stiles' breath catches, his hard cock spurting out a drop of precome. Peter just hums, massaging in slow circles. Stiles' breaths are getting short, he legs shaking in the stirrups. 

"Dr. Hale..."

"Just making sure everything is all right," Peter assures him, pressing harder against Stiles' prostate. 

Stiles starts to tighten around him and Peter rubs more insistently. Stiles' hole clenches as he gasps, cock spurting white all over his belly. Stiles moans as he comes, covering his face with his hands, flushing with embarrassment. Peter just hums, withdrawing his fingers slowly.

"You seem to be in perfect health, Mr. Stilinski, though I suggest coming back for regular checkups, just in case," Peter says.

Stiles nods quickly, still hiding his face. Peter smirks and walks out of the exam room, closing the door behind him. 

Peter gives Stiles a few minutes to collect himself before knocking on the door. He hears Stiles' soft, "Come in," and he enters. Stiles is sitting on the table, dressed, grinning. He hops down and wraps his arms around Peter's waist, resting his head on his chest.

"Satisfactory?" Peter asks, rubbing his husband's back.

"Very," Stiles says. "I can't believe we haven't done this before."

"My receptionist hasn't been on vacation before," Peter points out. "Come on, let's go home. I need to fuck you and I want to do it in a bed."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Hale."


	14. Peter/Derek/Cora, Incest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 - incest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've said it, but please heed the tag on this one. No one is underage, but it includes incest and breeding. If that's not your jam, please don't read it and yell at me after.

"It's our duty to grow the pack," Peter murmurs in Derek's ear from behind, sliding his hands around his nephew's torso to unbutton his jeans. "She needs it. Look at her, all sweet and desperate."

Cora's lying on the bed before them, completely nude, fingers buried in her hot, wet cunt. She's eyeing Peter and Derek hungrily, biting her lip. 

"You can't tell me you don't want this," Peter says, dipping his hand in Derek's jeans to squeeze his hard cock. Derek groans, eyes fluttering closed at his uncle's touch. "You can smell her heat, smell how much her body needs this. Give her what she needs."

Derek nods and lets Peter strip him of his clothes. He crawls between Cora's legs, spreading her thighs wider. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her arousal, and pulls her fingers out of her cunt. She glares, but seconds later her eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure as Derek buries his face between her thighs. 

They're the last Hales left after the fire decimated their family. They ran far, holding up in a cabin their family owned in Western Washington. They've survived by keeping a low profile, but it's hard with a pack so small, cut from over twenty to just three. Peter's taken the role of alpha seriously, doing everything he can to protect his niece and nephew, but something is missing. 

Then Cora went into heat, her body knowing that the pack needs to expand, and the best way is for her the bear. A new, purebred Hale pup. Peter had woken in the middle of the night to Cora crawling into his bed, grinding her wet cunt against her alpha's cock. He'd pushed her panties aside and thrust up into her, letting her ride him until he'd come inside her, filling her up with his come. 

Peter has taken her first, as is his right as alpha, but he wants Derek to fuck her, too. He wants Cora pregnant, preferably with his pup, but he isn't against her carrying her brother's. And he knows Derek wants it, has seen how hungrily he watches his little sister, how his eyes dilate and nostrils flare at her scent.

Cora mewls as Derek licks at her cunt, slipping two thick fingers up inside her. Peter sits to the side, absently stroking his hard cock as he watches. Cora's undulating her hips, grinding against Derek's face as he eats her out. His eyes are closed in bliss, focus completely on taking his little sister apart. Cora shrieks as she comes, gushing over Derek's face. 

Cora tugs Derek up by the hair until he's crawling up her body, hovering over her. Cora pulls him down for a deep, filthy kiss, licking the taste of herself out of his mouth. She cants her hips up, brushing his cock. 

"Come on," she hisses. "Derek, please..."

Derek groans, pressing his face against her neck. He guides his cock to her swollen opening, sliding in easily. Cora groans. Derek isn't as thick as Peter, but he's long, and by no means small. He rolls his hips into her, but that's not what Cora needs. She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Harder," she moans. "Please, Derek, need it. It hurts."

"I know, sweetheart," Derek says, pressing a kiss to her neck. 

Derek snaps his hips forward, driving that long cock deep into her. Cora shouts, nails digging into Derek's bare back and he fucks into her hard and fast. Obscene squelching noises fill the room, her cunt already filled with multiple loads of come. 

Cora's eyes are flashing gold, body trembling as Derek fucks her harshly. She winds a hand between them, rubbing at her swollen clit. Peter can smell her arousal peak right before she's coming again, shaking as Derek fucks her. Derek doesn't slow down, still driving into her until he's roaring, filling her with his seed. He doesn't pull out right away, lets his cock fill her and keep that creamy come locked inside her cunt. 

Cora's sated for the moment, now that she's had another load pumped into her, but it won't last for long. Soon the heat will be back, making her needy and desperate. She nuzzles at Derek's face, much closer to her wolf than normal, and licks at the juices smeared around his mouth. 

Soon enough, Peter can smell the change in her scent, the arousal flaring to life. Derek has to pull out and roll to the side, not able to get hard again so quickly. Peter takes his place, kneeling between his niece's spread thighs. Her cunt is red and swollen, steadily leaking come and her own juices. She rolls onto all fours, presenting her dripping pussy to her uncle.

Peter growls, eyes flaring red, and grabs her hips, driving his cock into her with one long thrust. Cora moans, hands fisting in the sheets as he slams into her over and over again. She's so ripe, so fertile and Peter just knows she'll be pregnant when they're done, that there's no way she's walking away without at least one pup in her belly. 

Derek is watching hungrily next to him, his spent cock twitching in interest. Peter doesn't want to waste one drop of their come, so when this is over, when Cora is truly bred, he and Derek will have to take her together, one buried in her cunt, one fucking her tight little ass. He needs to feel his cock against his nephew's, fucking Cora full and spreading her wide.

Derek slides his head beneath Cora's chest, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. Cora shouts, cunt spasming around Peter's length. Derek twists her other nipple with nimble fingers, making her moans louder. Peter's grateful their nearest neighbors are miles away, well out of hearing distance. 

"Soon, her pretty little tits will swell with milk," Peter growls, making Cora and Derek both moan. "She'll be so good for us, letting us drink from her, breasts heavy and full."

Cora tightens around him, arousal spiking and Peter is thrilled to have found another kink of hers that matches his. Peter reaches between her legs, rubbing soft circles around her hard little clit until Cora's coming, thighs shaking as her pleasure rushes through her.

Peter growls, hands gripping tighter at her waist. He fucks her hard, slamming his cock deep inside her, the clenching of her pussy pulling him closer. The cloying scent of sex and pack fills his bedroom and Cora tilts her head to the side, submitting to her alpha. Peter howls as he comes, cock jerking as he empties himself inside her. 

Peter rolls them to the side, making sure he's still nestled deep in her. Cora's body is still trembling, overwhelmed from all she's taken. Derek cuddles up against her front, mouth attaching to her breast as he suckles at her, a hand pressed over her flat belly. Peter snakes a hand around, resting his right over Derek's, imaging her swelling, going round with their pups. 

This is just the start of the new Hale pack.


	15. Peter/Stiles, Object Insertion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15 - object insertion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also includes cis female Stiles, size queen Stiles, and fisting.

Scott and Kira are currently broken up, which is why Peter's on patrol with Stiles tonight. Scott True Alpha McCall needs a night to nurse his broken heart and had ordered Peter to patrol with Stiles. Peter had shrugged because spending time with Stiles, his favorite pack member, isn't exactly a hardship. 

Stiles doesn't answer when Peter knocks on her front door, so he knocks again, harder. Still no answer. With a sigh, Peter starts moving flowerpots on the porch, successfully finding the spare key hidden. He'd really assume a sheriff would be better about hiding it, but maybe no one but him is stupid enough to break into the sheriff's house.

Peter heads upstairs to Stiles' room, listening to her heartbeat, quicker than normal. He frowns and walks silently forward, wondering if she's frightened, but then the scent of arousal hits him. He continues forward, cock hardening in his jeans at the smell of her, until he gets to her bedroom.

She's left her door ajar, clearly not expecting to be interrupted, and Peter isn't prepared for the sight in front of him. Stiles is completely nude, lying on her bed, hand between her legs. Peter isn't quite sure what he's seeing at first but no, he's right, it's a thick cucumber disappearing into her cunt. Next to her on the bed are a long, thick flashlight and a hairbrush, both of which have their handles glistening with lube. 

Stiles lets out a breathy moan, leisurely fucking herself with the cucumber. The thick vegetable is stretching her wide, much wider than Peter would have assumed she's capable of, but it slides in easily, like she's used to having something that size inside her. Peter's cock is straining against the front of his jeans and he reaches down to adjust himself.

"Well, this is unexpected," Peter says.

Stiles jolts, eyes wide, leaning up. The movement makes the cucumber slide deeper into her and she moans involuntarily. Peter stalks forward, intent clear in every movement. Stiles is frozen, but her scent reeks of arousal, not fear. Peter drags his eyes over her, her soft breasts and lithe body, her cunt wet and red. 

"Peter..." Stiles says.

"By all means, don't stop on my account," Peter says.

Peter sits at the end of her bed, eyes boring into hers. He doesn't know if this is going to work, if he's just shown his hand too soon, but Stiles bites her lip and nods, lying back. Her eyes are on him as she fucks herself with the cucumber, nudging it deep inside her. The lips of her cunt are spread wide around it, swallowing it up.

"Good girl," Peter purrs and Stiles whines, eyes closing. 

Stiles moves her hand faster, fucking herself harder. She tilts the cucumber, trying to get a better angle, and groans in frustration. Peter doesn't even think, just moves forward, taking the vegetable in hand. Stiles' eyes fly open, but she doesn't push him away. In fact, the scent of her arousal spikes. She slowly lets go of the cucumber and lets him take over.

Peter grins and rotates it inside of her, making her feel all the ridges. Stiles moans, hands coming up to cup her breasts. Peter tilts the cucumber the way she was trying to, brushing over her g-spot. Stiles whines, rolling his hips to meet his thrusts, but he keeps his pace lazy, dragging out her pleasure.

"Peter," Stiles whimpers. "I need more."

"All you had to do was ask," Peter says. 

Peter keeps fucking her with her makeshift toy lazily, but rubs over her clit with his free hand. Stiles' breath stutters out of her as he circles the hard little nub, teasing her pleasure until she's tilting her hips up, urging him for more.

Peter can't deny her and rubs faster, making her body tense. She pinches at her nipples and shouts as she comes, legs tightening on either side of Peter's body. Peter doesn't stop his movement until she's pushing him away, panting. 

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asks finally.

"We're supposed to patrol tonight," Peter reminds her, trailing fingers through the wetness smeared on her inner thighs. He brings his fingers to his lips, sucking on the taste of her. Stiles' eyes widen. "I'm assuming you forgot."

"Uh, yeah," Stiles says. She reaches for the blanket to cover herself with, but Peter stops her, tsking. "What?" she asks.

"Oh Stiles, I'm not finished with you," Peter says.

"What?" she asks again.

Peter nudges her thighs wider, showing off her soaked cunt. "I think you can go again, sweetheart," Peter says. 

Stiles flushes at the pet name. "I can't come twice in a row," she says. 

"Are you sure?" Peter asks, trailing fingers up her slit. "Do you want to test that out?"

"If you must," Stiles says, trying to be casual, but Peter can hear her galloping heart, can scent her need.

Peter hums and slips two fingers into her, testing how open she is. She's loose from her makeshift toys, cunt fucked out. Peter groans, sliding in a third finger.

"What a greedy little cunt," Peter says. Stiles whimpers. "Do you not have toys? Or do you like shoving random objects inside yourself?"

"Both," Stiles groans. "It's...I like putting things in me that aren't supposed to be there. And I can't afford...hng...good toys."

"Mm," hums, rubbing his finger tips against her g-spot. "Well, I can help with that."

"W-what?" Stiles asks. 

Peter flicks his thumb over her clit, making her gasp. "I would love to see your pretty cunt stuffed full of heavy ben wa balls, thick beads shoved up ass. I want to see you walk around, the weight shifting inside you, rubbing against your most sensitive spots with each step you take."

Stiles shudders, eyes closing as he speaks. Her pussy's getting even wetter at his words and Peter's able to slip a fourth finger into her.

"Such a greedy little cunt," Peter says. "I wonder what else I can fit in here. Beer bottle? Pop can? Baseball bat? I think I could."

Stiles moans, thighs quivering. "I can take a bottle," she whimpers. "It's so wide, feels so good."

"Good girl," Peter purrs. "Stretching your needy pussy."

"I want...I want to try a can. And a - a bat," she says. "Fuck, Peter, I need it. I need to be full."

"I know, sweetheart," Peter croons. "We'll fill you up. We'll find the thickest toys we can and stuff your slutty cunt full of them."

"And more?"

"And more," Peter promises. He twists the fingers inside of her, making her moan. "What about now, baby? Think you can take my hand?"

Stiles' scent bursts with arousal as she whines, pushing down on his fingers.

"Please," she begs. "Please, Peter..."

"I've got you," he murmurs. 

Peter pulls his fingers out just far enough to make them into a cone, tucking his thumb in, and pressing slowly back into her. She takes them easily until they get to his knuckles. Even then, it only takes a few minutes of gentle pressure and lube for the thickest part of his hand to get past her opening. The rest of his hand slides in easily until her cunt is full of him, loose opening clutching at his wrist.

"Fuck," she groans, chest heaving with her heavy breaths. "God, Peter."

Peter makes a fist inside her, making her gasp and tighten around him. There isn't a lot of room to work with, but he fucks her with his fist as well as he can, knuckles pressing against her g-spot. He uses his free hand to rub little circles over her clit, making her body tense until she's coming with a shout, cunt clenching down around around his hand. 

Peter works her through it, her juices seeping out of her and running down his arm. He only stops when she begs him to, oversensitive and overwhelmed. Peter kisses her thigh and slowly works his hand out of her. It's covered with her sweet slick and Peter wastes no time unbuttoning his jeans with his clean hand and pulling out his hard cock. 

Stiles licks her lips at the thickness and Peter grins, excited for when he can slide it deep inside her. For now, he uses her juices on his hand to slick up his cock, jacking himself off quickly to the sight of her loose, gaping cunt, the smell of her arousal. He comes quickly, spurting over his knuckles, mixing the scent of their release together.

"Okay, I'm definitely going to want that in me," Stiles says.

"One step at a time," Peter says. "Tomorrow we'll go out and buy all kind of toys for your sloppy cunt."

"And?" Stiles prompts.

"And I'll fuck you full until you can barely walk," Peter says. Stiles grins. "But first you have to shower so we can patrol."

Stiles groans.


	16. Chris/Stiles, Wax Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 - wax play

Chris loves having Stiles like this, spread out on his bed. He's completely nude, his wrists and ankles are tied down, a soft blindfold covering his eyes. They don't always do this, don't always have the time with how their lives are, but Chris cherishes it when they can.

"Ready, baby?" Chris asks. Stiles nods. "I need words."

"Yes, Daddy," Stiles says.

"Good boy," Chris says. 

The body-safe candles they'd bought came from the kink shop a few towns over. The employees know them by name by now and had just winked when they'd checked out, reminding them to remove body hair first, or else they'd have a painful mess when they were done.

Chris lights the candle and Stiles shivers in anticipation at the sound. Chris tests it on himself first, dripping a bit of the hot wax onto his hand. It's hot, but not unbearable. Perfect for what they want.

Chris kneels on the bed next to Stiles, careful of the candle in his hands. He smooths his free hand up Stiles' torso, the skin beneath his hand pebbling with goosebumps. Chris raises the candle over Stiles' body and tilts it, wax dripping. It hits Stiles in the middle of the chest, making his breath hitch. His cock is hard between his legs as he squirms in place.

"So lovely, baby," Chris murmurs.

The red wax stands out sharply against Stiles' pale skin, right next to one of the bruises Chris has sucked into his skin. Chris tilts the candle again, dribbling wax down Stiles' torso, stopping right under his belly button. Stiles whines, hips canting in to the air. Chris just hums, dragging nails up Stiles' torso next to where the wax is cooling. He'll have to remember to take a picture before they're done so he can show his boy just how pretty he looks. 

The anticipation always does it for Stiles, so Chris waits a bit before moving the candle again, dripping the hot wax directly onto Stiles' nipple. Stiles cries out, hard cock jerking against his belly and Chris grins. He's sure Stiles can't come from this alone, but it'll be fun to see how close he can get. 

Chris gives the other nipple a pinch before dripping wax onto it as well. Stiles whines, trembling beneath him. Chris can't help but lean down, press his lips against Stiles'. Stiles kisses him hungrily, arching into the touch until Chris pulls away. Stiles groans, letting his head flop back onto the pillow.

"Daddy, please," Stiles begs. 

Chris just hums and tilts the candle again, decorating Stiles' upper chest with trails of red wax. Chris absently wonders how it feels and considers sometime in the future letting Stiles do it to him. If the way his boy is writhing on his bed is any indication, it should be enjoyable. 

Chris keeps at it for the better part of an hour, until Stiles' body is splattered with red, his cock hard and leaking between his thighs. He does remember to step back and take a few pictures of Stiles. He's gorgeous like this, bound and desperate and covered in wax. 

Chris finally takes Stiles' hard cock in his hand, stroking quickly as he dribbles wax over his straining thighs. Stiles' hips jerk into the movement, chasing his release, and soon he's coming over Chris' hand with a shout of, "Daddy!"

Chris hums as he works him through it, ignoring his own erection in favor of prolonging Stiles' release. When it's too much and Stiles is close to overstimulation, Chris lets go. He undoes the bindings on Stiles' ankles and wrists, then gently removes the blindfold. The room is dark, lit only by the desk lap in the corner, but Stiles still blinks a few times against the light. 

"With me, sweetheart?" Chris asks.

"Mmhmm," Stiles hums, curling up against Chris' chest. 

Chris wraps his arms around Stiles, running fingers through his soft hair. The hardened wax on Stiles' body feels strange against Chris' skin, but he doesn't move to clean Stiles off yet. Stiles' preferred method of aftercare is being cuddled until he comes back down to Earth, so Chris settles in for a while. He can't wait to show Stiles the shots of how wonderful he looks tied up and covered in wax.


	17. Derek/Lydia, Massage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 - massage

It's been a very long, hard day. The pack spent four hours in the preserve dealing with a pixie infestation, another two hours trudging back to their cars, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Stiles and Peter head home, as do Scott and Allison. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd collapse in the loft's living room, dead to the world in a matter of minutes. Derek and Lydia don't.

Lydia smells of pain and irritation. When Derek touches her to drain what he can, he finds aches and discomfort, not the shooting pain that means anything's broken, thankfully. He nods toward the spiral staircase.

"Go ahead and get ready, I'll be up in a second," he says. Lydia nods and does what he says, a true sign that she's exhausted.

Derek takes the time to lock up and throw a blanket over the betas in the living room before heading upstairs. Lydia is lying face down on his bed, her head pillowed on her arms. She's completely nude, covered only by a spare blanket Derek keeps at the foot of his bed. 

Derek massages her fairly regularly, ever since she discovered he used to do this professionally. After most battles, eventually Lydia will end up on her stomach, Derek working the knots and aches from her back. It's not always easy to control himself, Lydia is gorgeous and soft beneath his hands, but he keeps himself in line. 

Lydia's eyes are closed so he makes sure to walk loudly enough that he won't startle he when he settles on the bed at her side. He tugs the blanket down until just the swell of her ass is covered, baring her back to him. He rubs the mint lotion on his his hands and runs them up her back. Lydia sighs in contentment, relaxing further into his bed. 

Lydia's skin is soft and smooth under his hands, a little cool from being outside for so long. He sweeps his hands up and down her back before focusing on where he can feel the tension near her neck. Lydia moans into his touch and Derek very firmly ignores the way his cock twitches in his pants.

There's a stubborn knot halfway down her back that takes longer than he'd like to work out, but soon he can drag his hands lower, digging his thumbs into the tight muscles at the base of her spine. She makes a soft noise, almost like a whine, and he pauses, big hands spanning her lower back. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly.

"No," Lydia says and he's shocked to find her breathless. "No, keep going."

It's then that her scent hits him. Arousal. She's been turned on before when they've done this and Derek understands, there are some bodily reactions you can't help, but not like this. Derek can smell her wet cunt hidden by the blanket, can see how she's clenching her thighs together tightly. He takes a deep breath to try to focus, but all that does is give him a larger dose of the scent of her.

Lydia tenses under his hands, no doubt realizing what his large inhale means. They're both still for a moment. He sits back and lifts his hands off her, but she reaches back, grabbing his wrist without looking.

"Don't stop," she says.

"Lydia..."

Lydia looks over her shoulder, pupils blown wide with lust. 

"You don't have to keep going if you don't want to," she says. "But don't you dare stop just because you think I don't want you to keep touching me."

Derek swallows hard and nods, placing his hands back on her lower back. Lydia nods approvingly and settles her head back on his pillow, sighing happily as he digs him thumbs into her skin. Derek drags his hands down, dipping his fingers under the hem of the blanket covering her, and slowly pulls it down, revealing her bare ass to him, the smell of her arousal stronger with the barrier gone. 

He waits for a sign of protest, her to say he misunderstood, but he gets none. All she does is spread her legs wider, giving him a glimpse of the wet lips of her cunt. Derek's cock is hard in his jeans as he massages his hands over her perfect ass, kneading the flesh. Lydia moans under his touch, arching her back.

Derek dips his hand lower, brushing his fingers up her wet slit. Lydia gasps, the scent of her arousal blossoming. Derek traces his fingers up her wet folds a few times before sliding a finger inside her hot, tight cunt. Lydia mewls, spreading her legs even wider for him. She's soaking, making it easy for Derek to press another finger into her, rubbing gently at her g-spot. 

Lydia's hips jerk and Derek can feel her trying not to press back into the touch, trying to keep her cool. Derek doesn't want that, he wants her needy and taking her pleasure. He thrusts his fingers into her hard, making her moan loudly before clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Let me hear you," Derek says, voice rough. He leans down and nips at her ass and Lydia groans, not bothering to muffle the sound this time. 

Derek reaches under her with his free hand, rubbing his fingers over her slick clit as best he can at this angle. Lydia's thighs are trembling, small, helpless noises escaping her throat. Derek works her harder, juices dripping out of her to pool on his bed. He wants to taste her, needs to feel her fall apart on his tongue, but he wants her to come like this first. 

Lydia starts tightening around him, the smell of her arousal deepening. Derek presses harder against her g-spot, keeping the pressure on her clit, then she's coming, whining out his name. She rolls onto her back before her cunt even stops spasming around his fingers, locking her legs around his waist and dragging him to her. She grinds her soaked cunt against the front of his jeans, making both of them moan.

"Come on," she says breathlessly. "You've been the good, respectable alpha for too long. Fuck me."

Derek nods, unable to find the words, and undoes his pants, pushing them and his boxers down. Lydia tugs his shirt over his head and yanks him down for a searing kiss, licking hungrily into his mouth. He cups her face with his large hands, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones as he kisses her. 

"Come on," Lydia says again. She reaches between them, hand wrapping around his hard cock and positions him at her entrance. Derek groans eyes closing. "Alpha..."

Derek rolls his hips forward, his dick sliding into her with one smooth thrust. Lydia moans, head thrown back, exposing her pale neck to Derek. He latches onto it immediately, sucking a deep mark on her throat. 

Her cunt is wet and tight around him and she rocks up into his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck her harder. Derek grips at her waist and thrusts into her, slick noises filling the room. Lydia's moaning freely, nails digging into Derek's back. He doesn't know if she can come again so soon but he wants her to try. He reaches between them, tracing circles around her hard little clit. 

Lydia shouts, cunt rippling around him as he works her closer. She starts to tremble under him, whimpers getting high pitched, until she's shrieking his name, cunt gushing as she comes again. Derek snarls, eyes flashing red, and fucks her through it, driving his cock into her perfect cunt over and over until he's spilling inside her, blunt, human teeth set against her throat. 

Derek collapses to the side, cock slipping out of her, making her mewl. They lie there breathlessly, basking in the afterglow. Derek's expecting it to be weird, for discomfort to crawl in at any moment, but Lydia seems perfectly content to lie next to him and regain her breath.

"Took you long enough," Lydia finally says. "I thought I'd have to ask you for massages forever."

Derek snorts and rolls over, burying his face in her throat. Lydia just laughs and cards her fingers through his hair.


	18. Peter/Stiles, Daddy and Masturbation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 - daddy and masturbation

Stiles grins, sitting in his bed, as the sound of an incoming Skype call pings on his laptop. He glances down at what he's wearing, nothing but Peter's v-neck, and answers. Peter's eyes widen before his face breaks into a grin upon seeing Stiles.

_"Well don't you look delicious, baby boy,"_ Peter purrs.

"Hey, Daddy," Stiles says with a grin. "I was missing you."

_"I miss you too, sweetheart. Just a few more weeks until spring break."_

"In the meantime..." Stiles says, tugging the shirt up to show his hard cock. He wraps a hand around his length, stroking slowly. "You were on my mind."

_"Good boy,"_ Peter says, voice dropping to a growl. _"You know how much Daddy loves watching you play with yourself. Stroke yourself faster for me, sweetheart."_

Stiles whines, moving his hand quicker on his cock. Just having Peter watch him is a heady thing, knowing how turned on Peter is just from seeing Stiles play with his cock. He rubs his thumb over the slit at the tip of his dick on each stroke, just the way Peter touches him. Peter notices, eyes flaring blue.

"Wish it were you," Stiles says with a whimper. "Need you to touch me."

_"Soon, baby,"_ Peter says. _"I'll have you for a whole week, keep you fucked out and full of me."_

Stiles whines, stroking himself faster. It's been too long since he's been in Peter's bed, too long since he's had his daddy's hands on him. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it's Peter stroking him, but he doesn't want to. He wants to be able to look at Peter, look at how his hand slips out of camera view and Stiles knows he's touching himself.

_"Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"_ Peter asks. _"Show me how good you are."_

Stiles groans and speeds up, jerking himself quickly. He isn't going to last long, pleasure already building inside him. The fact that he can see Peter doing the same, touching himself all because of Stiles, is too much, and when Peter growls at him to come, Stiles is helpless to do anything but obey. He comes over his hand, painting his knuckles in white. Some lands on the v-neck he's wearing, but he knows Peter won't mind at all.

Stiles hums and relaxes against the wall, watching as Peter roughly pulls at his cock until he's growling out Stiles' name, coming in his hand. Neither of them say anything for a bit, content to just see each other while they come down from their orgasms. 

_"This was a surprise,"_ Peter finally says.

"I had a long day," Stiles says with a shrug. "It made me want to play with you."

_"Just two and a half weeks until we're in Barbados, love,"_ Peter promises. _"Then we'll have all the time we could want."_


	19. Peter/Stiles, Sex Work and Nipple Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19 - sex work and nipple play

Peter stares at the young man lying under him appreciatively. Peter's at a point in his career where he can afford to be picky with his clients, and he has no problem with this one. His name is Stiles, he's in his early twenties, and new to the city. He'd been sent Peter's way by Lydia after she told Peter that her friend needs a release. Peter's so glad she did.

"Peter," Stiles gasps.

Peter just hums, twisting at Stiles' sensitive nipples. Stiles squirms under him, hard cock pressing against Peter's. Twenty minutes ago, Peter had brushed over Stiles' nipples, just to see what would happen, and the reaction had been instantaneous. Stiles had arched his back into Peter's touch, crying out. Peter hasn't let him have a moment of peace since.

Stiles' nipples are hard and puffy, red and swollen from abuse. Peter sucks one into his mouth, nipping and flicking his tongue over the hot nub. Stiles twists his hand in Peter's hair, but he doesn't pull him away. His cock is leaking precome steadily, hips humping up against Peter's. 

"I should have brought clamps," Peter murmurs against Stiles' red nipple. "I'd love to see what your pretty little nipples would look like all clamped and swollen for me."

Stiles groans, body trembling. Peter doesn't think he can come like this, but he's close, all needy and desperate. He reaches between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Stiles' cock and strokes lightly. Stiles keens, twitching as Peter laves his tongue over a nipple.

"I'm gonna come," Stiles gasps.

"Good," Peter says.

"I don't - I don't want it to be over," Stiles whines.

"Don't worry," Peter says, twisting Stiles puffy nipple, making him scream. "You have me for the whole night. We have plenty of time."

Peter strokes Stiles hard, twisting and pinching his nipple, licking the other and grazing it with his teeth, until Stiles jerks, coming over Peter's hand. Stiles cries out when he comes, trembling beneath Peter. Peter works him through it with gentle hands until Stiles is just this side of oversensitive.

"Holy shit," Stiles says breathlessly, eyes closed. "Lydia wasn't kidding, wow you're good at your job."

Peter laughs, reaching for the towel next to the bed so he can wipe his hand off. "I get very few negative reviews," Peter says.

"I still want you to fuck me," Stiles says. 

"Oh, I will," Peter says with a grin. "We have hours."


	20. Peter/Stiles/Kira, Lydia/Boyd, Derek/Erica, Threesome (Or More)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20 - threesome (or more)

The moon is full and there's a snowstorm outside unlike any Beacon Hills has had in a hundred years, so as much as the pack would love to be outside running, they're cooped up indoors. Tensions are high, energy is electric, and it's Erica who first says fuck it and crawls into Derek's lap.

Derek's hands tighten on her waist and instead of throwing her off like last time, he licks hungrily into her mouth, one hand trailing up her body and wrapping tightly in her curls. Their wolves are so close to the surface and it's not long before Derek is hard, instinct driving him to take what his beta is offering. Erica grinds down hard against his clothed erection and he can smell how wet she is.

They're slightly moon-drunk, but not so much that he can't ask her if she's sure this is what she wants. When she nods without hesitation, Derek flips up her skirt and nudges aside her damp panties. Erica sighs as Derek slips a finger into her, testing how tight and wet her cunt is. He slides in easily and groans, adding a second finger. Erica moans loudly, grinding her hard little clit down on the heel of his hand. 

Everyone takes that as a sign to start. Boyd's cock is hard in his jeans watching them and he looks to where Lydia is sitting next to him. She grins sharply and slides to her knees between his legs, tugging open his jeans. His cock is thick and long, just like she'd thought it would be, and she licks her lips in anticipation. 

"You don't have to," Boyd says, brushing her hair from her face.

"I want to," she tells him. 

A second later she's licking a stripe up his hard cock and he's wrapping a hand in her hair. Lydia uses all her tricks on him, undulating her tongue as she bobs her head, sucking him hard, taking him as deep in her throat as possible. She's spurned on by Erica's cries behind her and moans from her left where Peter is with Stiles and Kira. 

Lydia feels the heat gathering between her thighs because she loves this, loves feeling the twitches in the muscles of Boyd's powerful thighs, the way his cock jerks on her tongue. She loves taking people apart. 

She can tell Boyd's getting close, his body tensing, and he pulls her off his cock, looking down at her hungrily. It makes her breath catch and her cunt clench. 

"Get up here," Boyd says.

Lydia climbs onto the couch and Boyd immediately pushes her down until she's lying on her back, his bulky body between her legs. Boyd runs his hands up her creamy thighs, under her pleated skirt, and spreads her legs wide for him. Her lacy panties are soaked through and Boyd growls low in his throat, tracing a finger over the crotch of the wet fabric.

"Is this for me?" he asks, pressing against her opening. Lydia gasps and nods, needing him inside her. "Good."

Boyd tugs her panties down and tosses them to the side, burying his face in her cunt a second later. Lydia's moan is loud and long, and she'd be embarrassed, but his mouth is too good. He knows precisely how to lick her, how to suck on her hard little clit. She gasps when he slips a thick finger into her, working her tight cunt open. She needs more, can't wait for his thick cock to fill her.

When Erica first crawls into Derek's lap and Lydia drops to her knees for Boyd, Kira's sitting on a couch between Peter and Stiles. She bites her lip, wetness gathering between her legs, and clenches her thighs together, trying to relieve some of the ache. 

Peter notices and leans closer, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear, saying, "Is that something you want, little one?"

Kira looks at him with wide eyes, knowing he can scent her arousal. She looks over her shoulder at Stiles, not wanting him to think she's trying to poach on his boyfriend, but Stiles is grinning at them, hand pressing against the front of his jeans. Kira turns back to Peter and nods, making his mouth stretch into a smile.

Stiles runs his hands up her back under her shirt, then draws it over her head, unclipping her bra and dropping it to the floor. He tugs her backwards to him, cradling her back against his chest. Peter moves between her legs, tugging her leggings down, her Black Widow underwear following. She's fiercely grateful that Scott, Isaac, and Allison have a date night tonight, because she's sure she wouldn't be able to do this if they were here.

Thoughts of the three of them flee her mind as Peter draws a finger over her labia, tracing the wetness coating her. Stiles' hands on her waist drag up her stomach to cup her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples. Kira gasps and arches her back, making Stiles chuckle in her ear.

"Oh?" he says. He does it again, rolling her nipples under his thumbs. Kira whines, can feel wetness seeping out of her, coating the tips of Peter's fingers. 

"Such a good girl for us," Peter says.

Kira can't help the way her hips jerk at that, eyes wide. Peter chuckles and ghosts his fingers over her hard little clit, making her keen and buck her hips up, chasing the touch. 

"Peter," Kira whimpers.

"Shh, little one, I'll give you what you need," Peter murmurs. 

Peter parts her thighs with his large hands and licks up her slit, swirling his tongue around her clit. Kira cries out, fighting to hold herself still and not grind against his face. Stiles nips at her ear, his cock hard against her lower back. Her massages her breasts, occasionally tweaking and pinching at her puffy, sensitive nipples.

"He loves this," Stiles says in her ear. "He loves watching you come apart, seeing your thighs turn red from his beard, tasting how sweet you are."

Peter slips a finger into her, longer and thicker than what she's used to, and presses up against her g-spot. Kira's cunt clenches around him and he flicks his tongue quicker over her clit, coaxing her pleasure from her. Like Stiles can tell she's close, her rubs his thumbs over her nipples faster, adding to the tingling feeling deep inside, until she's coming, gushing around Peter's finger and mouth. Peter looks up at her mischievously and she knows he's not done with her yet.

Peter gently turns her over onto her hands and knees and Kira doesn't wait, immediately draws Stiles' cock from his pants and wraps her lips around it. Stiles groans, resting a hand on her head, but not forcing her down. 

Kira's expecting it, but he still jolts when Peter presses that thick cock into her. She stills and mewls into the stretch, before doubling her efforts, sucking Stiles' cock down. Peter picks up a leisurely pace, rolling his hips into her. It's slow, and not enough to get her off yet, but it still feels incredible.

Across from them, Erica is still in Derek's lap, only now she's naked, his long cock buried inside her. Derek's arms are wrapped around her, his mouth attached to her chest. He laves his tongue over her nipple, nipping and sucking until it's red and swollen, then moves to the other. It's a heady thing, having her alpha's cock deep in her cunt, and her legs are shaking from riding him.

Derek lifts her off him and spins her around, bending her over the back of the couch. Erica arches her back, presenting her dripping cunt to him. Derek thrusts into her with a growl, eyes flashing alpha red. He pounds into her, rough and demanding. She's come twice already and it's his turn now, using her warm, wet pussy for his pleasure. 

Erica reaches between her legs, circling her slippery clit with her finger tips. She's oversensitive, but she thinks she can come again, especially with how good Derek feels thrusting in and out of her. Derek's cock jerks inside her and she moans, his cock spurting come into her cunt. Derek doesn't pull out, stays buried deep as she works at her clit, whining out his name as she comes again, spasming around his cock. 

Derek pulls out slowly and collapses onto the couch. Erica follows suit, flopping down on top of him. Derek grunts, but wraps an arm around her, keeping her from rolling off onto the floor. His come is dripping out of her onto his thigh, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. 

One couch over, Lydia is lying on her back, legs wrapped around Boyd's waist. He's covering her body with his own, propped up on his elbow so their faces are only inches apart. Lydia is gasping, clutching at his muscled back as he thrusts into her. His pace is unhurried, but his cock is stretching her so wide, rubbing against her g-spot, that she can feel her pleasure building steadily.

She's never had something this thick in her before, has never had someone quite this strong fuck her so tenderly. Boyd kisses her softly as he rolls his hips, large hand cradling her face. He's sure to grind his pelvis against hers on every thrust, stimulating her slippery clit. 

Her orgasm takes her by surprise, crashing over her in waves. She moans into Boyd's mouth, clutching at him desperately as he fucks her through it, cunt fluttering around his cock. 

"Come on," she urges, canting her hips up. "You too."

Boyd speeds up a bit, fucking into her pliant body, until he's spilling deep inside her, his forehead resting against hers. He collapses forward, covering her slight frame with his bulky body. Most of his weight is resting on the couch to the side of her, but she still has plenty of heft on top of her, cocooning her in his warmth. 

Kira, Peter, and Stiles had switched positions once she'd come on Peter's cock. Stiles is on his back, Kira straddling his face as he enthusiastically eats her out, trying to draw a third orgasm from her. He's licking hungrily at her, pointing his tongue and slipping it as deep into her as he can.

Peter's between Stiles' legs, fucking him hard and fast. Stiles lets out loud moans into Kira's cunt, making she shiver. His nose nudges at her clit and she rides his face, so caught up in the pleasure that she doesn't remember to feel self conscious that everyone can see her, that Stiles' face is wet and messy from her throbbing cunt. 

Peter roars as he slams into Stiles one last time, unloading in his tight little ass. Stiles' cock is hard and leaking against his belly and Peter takes it in his hand, stroking him quickly, just the amount of pressure he knows Stiles loves, until Stiles is shouting as he comes, the sound muffled by Kira's pussy. 

Stiles doubles his efforts to get Kira off, even though he's trembling through the aftermath of his own release. Peter's already made her come twice and he wants to at least get one out of her. Her thighs are shaking on each side of his head and he grips her ass tightly, trailing his fingers between her cheeks. He brushes over her tight hole and she jerks in shock, coming all over his face.

Kira rolls to the side immediately, too sensitive for him to lick her through it. Stiles rests a hand on her calf, the only part of her that he can reach. She's swollen and red between her legs, her inner thighs raw from Peter's beard, and it's the best feeling she's had post-sex. 

The living room is quiet, everyone either fucked stupid or too out of breath to talk. It's only 10:45 p.m., the full moon isn't nearly over. In a while, once everyone recovers, they'll all switch partners and go again. Kira can't wait to get Derek nestled up inside her. Who doesn't want to be fucked by their alpha?


	21. Peter/Stiles/Erica, Double Penetration, Impact; Peter/Stiles, Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21 - double penetration, impact, shower

\---Double Penetration and Impact---

Stiles brings the flogger down hard on Erica's ass, making her whine, burying her face in the pillow in front of her. The skin of her back, ass, and thighs is a dark red, marked up from where Stiles has been working her over. Peter's sitting next to Erica on the bed, his back against the headboard. He hums and runs a hand over the red skin of her back, making her moan.

"Again," he says.

Stiles brings the flogger down in the middle of her back. The tails are laced with a very mild strand of wolfsbane, just enough to make the sting last. Erica mewls, hands clenching at the sheets. Peter runs a hand through her hair, gripping tightly and pulling her head to the side, baring her neck to him.

"So good for us," he croons. Erica whimpers, eyes fluttering shut. Peter leans down at bites at her neck, drawing a dark mark to the surface of her pale skin. Erica cries out and Peter smirks, pressing a kiss to the mark. He looks up at Stiles and says, "Again."

Stiles brings the flogger down again, watching as her skin turns white with the impact, then darkens to the red flush. She looks amazing like this, strung out and needy for them. When Stiles and Peter had approached her for a threesome, Stiles had been sure she'd be open to it, but he never thought she'd take this so well. 

Erica jerks at the impact of the flogger on her ass, the back of her thighs, her back. Peter's cock is hard in his jeans and as much as Stiles would love to see her suck him down, he and Peter both want to watch her fall apart like this, focused purely on the pained pleasure. 

"I can smell your wet little cunt," Peter says. "You love this, don't you? You're taking it so well, little one. Spread those legs, show us your pretty pussy."

Erica sobs, body trembling and opens her thighs, giving Stiles a beautiful look at her soaked cunt, swollen with need. The base of the plug they'd worked in is nestled between her cheeks, standing out starkly against her rosy skin. He brings the flogger down, not nearly as hard as he could, right between her legs. Erica screams, thighs clenching closed. Stiles would worry it's too much, but she hasn't safeworded and had promised them she wants this. 

Stiles brings the flogger down again, hitting over her bright red ass, watching the flesh bounce. His cock is hard in his pants and he has to adjust himself, but other than that, he ignores it. That's for later. 

"Please," Erica moans. "Please, Peter, Stiles..."

Stiles loves that she lets them have this, that Erica trusts them enough to let her guard down for them. That they can take her apart and put her back together again. Peter looks up at Stiles and nods. Stiles sets the flogger down and crawls onto the bed between Erica's legs, spreading her thighs wide. She mewls at the first swipe of Stiles' tongue over her dripping cunt. She tilts her hips up, begging for more, and Stiles sucks at her opening, dipping his tongue inside her.

Peter strips as Stiles eats Erica out, dropping his clothes then crawling back onto the bed. He lies down on his back next to her, watching as she shakes from Stiles' mouth. Stiles has three fingers buried in her cunt, thumb flicking over her clit. He can feel the thick plug in her ass through the thin wall inside her, and can't wait to replace it with his cock. Stiles glances over at Peter and grins, knowing from experience just how much Peter loves his fingers. 

Erica wails, cunt tightening around Stiles' digits as she comes, thighs trembling. Stiles works her through it, keeping his fingers inside of her until her pussy stops spasming. She collapses forward, breathing harshly.

"Don't relax yet," Stiles says, smacking her red ass. Erica whines. "We aren't through with you."

Peter draws Erica to him until she's clumsily crawling over him, straddling his waist. She reaches down with a shaking hand, wrapping her hand around Peter's thick cock. Stiles watches, enraptured, as she positions it at her swollen entrance, slowly lowering herself onto Peter's length. She cries out when he's fully seated and Stiles doesn't blame her. Peter's cock is wonderfully thick and there's nothing quite like how he fills you up.

Erica rocks her hips, getting used to the cock filling her up. Peter groans, hands tight on her waist. He stills her when she starts riding him harder, making her whimper.

"Not yet, little one," Peter says. "We can't forget Stiles."

Erica nods quickly. Stiles crawls behind her, pushing her down until she's all but lying on Peter's chest, his thick cock still buried inside her. Stiles tugs at the plug in her ass, twisting it, pushing it deeper before slowly pulling it out, watching with fascination as her ass opens up around the thickest part of the toy. Erica whimpers as it slides free, her hole gaping a tiny bit. She'll be more open when they're done, and Stiles can't wait to see it. 

Stiles lines himself up, nudging his cock against her ass. He runs a hand down her back, murmuring for her to breathe, then slowly pushes forward. Erica gasps, body tensing, before remembering to bear down. Stiles slides in slowly, hissing in pleasure. He can feel Peter cock snug in her cunt, pressing against his. She's so tight, body hot and perfect. She's trembling by the time he's fully seated, hips flush against her ass.

"You good?" Stiles asks, running a hand down her back.

"Yeah," Erica gasps. "Fuck, so good. So full."

Stiles hums and pulls back before slowly pushing back into her. Erica pushes herself up, bracing herself on Peter's chest and arching her back. Stiles thrusts into her again, harder, making her gasp. Stiles gets a steady rhythm going, hands tight on her waist, then Peter begins to move. He fucks up into her, thrusts countering Stiles' so she's never empty. 

Erica shrieks, clutching at Peter's biceps as he slams into her, grinding his pelvis against her sensitive clit. Stiles groans, the slide of Peter's cock against his so wonderfully erotic. They've never done this, never had a third in their bedroom, and Stiles is already ready to invite her back. 

Stiles reaches around her, rubbing two fingers around her hard little clit. Erica shudders, tensing around them, making Stiles and Peter hiss in pleasure. They don't let up, fucking her harder until the slick sound of skin on skin fills the room. Erica is close, Stiles can tell, and he speeds up right when Peter leans up, sucking her hard nipple in his mouth. 

Erica shouts, spasming around them as she comes. She's shuddering in their grip, writhing on their cocks as she rides out her pleasure. The clenching of her ass is too much for Stiles and it's just a few more thrusts before he's emptying deep insider her, cock jerking as he unloads. 

Peter growls, eyes flashing blue, and fucking up into Erica harder, bouncing her on his cock and making her scream. Stiles can feel it when Peter comes, feel how his cock twitches inside her as he releases, pumping his seed inside her. 

Stiles pulls out first, rolling to the side as Peter gently lifts Erica off of him, settling her on the bed between them. She's a mess between her thighs, her come and theirs dripping out of her, but she doesn't seem to care, cuddling up to Stiles' side. Peter presses against her back, draping an arm over both of them, as they come down to earth. 

"Fuck," Erica says, voice hoarse. "You guys don't fuck around."

Stiles laughs, carding his fingers through her sweat-damp hair. "Not if we can help it."

\---Shower---

Peter guides Stiles into the apartment with a hand on her lower back, not trusting that she won't trip. They're both exhausted and sore, a run in with the alpha pack taking it out of them. They're relatively unscathed, no one had died at least, but they're pretty beaten up. Peter had been thrown into more than one concrete wall, and Stiles had been hit hard enough that for a heart-stopping moment, Peter had expected her neck to snap.

The alphas had left, happily having injured most of Derek's pack, with the reminder that he needs to think about their offer while they still give him a choice. Peter had gone to Stiles immediately, run his fingers over her neck, checking for damage, wincing in apology when his fingers brushed what will be a truly magnificent bruise on her right cheek. Everyone had slunk off to lick their wounds in peace, and Peter had bundled Stiles into his car and driven her to his apartment.

It's not the first time she's been here, she spends more time at Peter's than she does at her own house nowadays, but she still moves slowly, looking a little lost. Peter takes her by the hand and pulls her deeper into the apartment, toward the bathroom. Stiles goes willingly, not letting go of Peter's hand. He keeps draining her pain, his veins turning black, and she doesn't pull her hand away like she normally does when he tries. If Peter weren't able to feel how much pain she's in, that itself would have been a huge clue.

Peter lets go of her hand to start the shower and she takes that as her cue to get undressed. She kicks her shoes and socks off with no trouble and lets her jeans and panties drop to the ground, but winces when she tries to take off her shirt. Peter frowns and steps into her space. 

"What hurts?" he asks.

"My ribs," Stiles says through gritted teeth. "It hurts to raise my arms."

"Are you particularly attached to this shirt?" Peter asks, flicking out his claws.

"Not really," Stiles says. Peter slices the shirt off of her without another question, making her roll her eyes. "I'm going to have to put another shirt on eventually and at that point, I'll have to lift my arms."

"We'll deal with that later," Peter says. 

He reaches around her and unhooks her bra, slipping it off her arms. Her torso is riddled with bruises, some days old, some new, and the only reason Peter knows her ribs aren't broken is he'd forced her to go to the ER. Just bruised. Very, very bruised. Peter touches the deep purple skin, taking the pain into himself. She sighs gratefully.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"You're welcome," he says. "Come here."

Peter guides her into the shower stall before shucking out of his own clothes. All of their garments are dirty and soaked in blood, and he'll probably just have to throw them all away, so he doesn't bother folding anything. Peter steps in the stall behind Stiles, who's standing under the spray of hot water, her eyes closed.

Peter presses a kiss to the knob at the top of her spine before squirting out a handful of his scentless shower gel onto the loofah (Stiles had given him so much shit when she'd seen it the firs time). He works it into a lather and brings it to her skin, starting with her shoulders. He drags the loofah across her skin, moving down her back, slowly washing her. 

Next are her arms, blood and dirt coating her fair skin. Peter has to rinse the loofah twice until it runs clean and her arms aren't covered anymore. He turns her under the spray so she's facing him. She keeps her eyes closed, tilting her head back into the hot water. 

Peter gently washes her front, starting at her neck, moving down her chest, ignoring the way her pink nipples pebble under his touch. He can smell her getting wet, but it's a normal bodily reaction when someone's touched this way, and Peter won't make more of it until she does, not after the day they've had.

He's careful over her ribs, ghosting his touch as lightly as he can before dropping to his knees before her. Her breath hitches as she looks down at him, kneeling before her. Peter says nothing, just slowly moves the loofah over her stomach and down her thighs. He washes the swell of her ass, the backs of her thighs. He briefly, gently touches her between her legs with nothing but gentle hands and warm water, just enough to clean her, before standing.

Stiles watches him, face open and raw. Peter gently brushes wet hair from her face and leans forward, kissing her lightly. She kisses him back, like she has a hundred times before, and sighs against his lips, pressing her forehead to his. 

After a few minutes, Peter pulls back, tilting her head back so he can wash her face. He doesn't use the loofah for this, just gentle fingers and soap. He drains her pain when he brushes over the bruise forming, whispering his apologies as he wipes the blood and grime from her skin.

"My hair?" she asks quietly. 

Peter smiles down at her. It'd shocked both of them when they'd discovered that she loves to have him wash her hair, but he'll never tell her no. He pours some of the ridiculously expensive shampoo she loves into his hands and rubs it into her hair, massaging her scalp. She sighs contentedly, eyes fluttering shut as he works the shampoo into a lather. He tilts her head back to rinse the suds from her hair, then works in the conditioner. Normally he'd leave it in the allotted five minutes, but they're both anxious to get to bed, so he works it out of her hair quickly until her long brown tresses are clean. 

Stiles opens her eyes when he's done and looks up at him. She looks soft and vulnerable, a side he's only ever seen when it's just the two of them, but she also looks defeated, half of her face already darkly bruised. She'll rally, Peter knows. In a few hours her rage will come back, her determination, but for now he lets her wallow. She's earned it.

Stiles tilts forward, resting her head on his wet chest. Peter wraps his arms around her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They stand there like that for a long time, him holding her securely as the hot water cascades over them. She nuzzles against his chest with a sigh and he tightens his hold. He wishes he could protect her from what's coming, from what the alpha pack is raining down on them, but he can't. He can't, and he feels utterly helpless.

When she pulls back, Peter steps to the side, giving her room to step out of the shower.

"Go ahead and dry off, I'll be out in a minute," Peter says.

Stiles nods and slips out of the shower. Peter washes himself off quickly, wincing when he hears the pained hitches in her breath as she dries a part of herself that hurts. 

"I'll be in your bedroom," Stiles says.

"Okay."

Peter finishes and dries himself quickly. His arm, which had been fractured, is almost completely healed, and the bruises littering his body are almost gone. It's not fair, he thinks, that he gets to feel better so quickly and Stiles will be in pain for weeks. He wishes she'd taken the bite when he'd offered. Sometimes he wishes he'd bitten her anyway, she'd be so much harder to hurt that way, but he knows she'd never have forgiven him if he'd taken her humanity against her will.

Stiles is sitting on his bed when he walks into his room, blankets pooled at her waist. She's somehow managed to wriggle into a shirt of his. It's a well-worn t-shirt, one that's saturated with his scent, and something tightens deep inside him at the sight of her in it. He knows that's why she always picks it.

Peter flips off the light and slides under the sheets. Stiles scoots down with a whimper and rolls onto her side that isn't bruised, resting her head on his chest. Peter wraps his arm around her, taking what pain he can.

"Goddamn alphas ruined my plans for you fucking me tonight," Stiles grumbles, nuzzling at his shoulder.

Peter chuckles. "We have all day tomorrow," he says. 

"You're going to treat me like glass now though," she says.

"I'm not," Peter says. "I'm just not going to take unnecessary risks with you and end up hurting you more."

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles says, but she sounds fond. They're quiet for a long time, Peter running his thumb over the curve of her shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is hushed, hesitant. "Sometimes I wish...sometimes I wish you'd bitten me instead of Scott," she whispers. 

Peter's heart beats faster and he swallows hard. "Sometimes I do, too," he confesses.


	22. Peter/Stiles, Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22 - scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this talks briefly about previous child abuse, so please tread carefully if that's a trigger for you.

Peter doesn't mind Stiles' scars, though Stiles hates them. They're vivid, dark things, criss crossing over his back. Peter had had his suspicions about why Stiles always kept his shirt on while they're in bed, why he flinches when he back is touched, but it isn't until his shirt is torn away during a fight with a feral omega that Peter sees the damage.

Luckily, it's just Stiles and Peter in the preserve, otherwise Peter's sure Stiles' panic would be higher. He looks anywhere but Peter's eyes and jumps when he sets a hand on his shoulder. Stiles ends up wearing Peter's cardigan on the way back to Peter's apartment, fiddling with the sleeves.

"I'm guessing you want to see," Stiles says when they're safe in Peter's living room.

He does, but he says, "If you want to show me." Because he isn't going to push this. He just waits patiently as Stiles bites his nails, thinking.

"I want you to know," Stiles says finally.

Stiles turns his back to Peter and shrugs out of the cardigan, then tugs off the shredded remains of his shirt. His shoulders are hunched and he's holding himself tightly, waiting for Peter's reaction. The scars aren't pretty, long and brutal, and it's obvious that they're old, have stretched and grown as Stiles had. 

"May I touch you?" Peter asks softly. 

It takes a second, but Stiles nods. Peter moves slowly, but Stiles still tenses when his fingers brush the skin on his back for the first time. Peter grazes his touch over the raised scars, tracing them with soft fingers. He doesn't offer useless platitudes, doesn't say how the scars mark him as strong or any other bullshit like that. A well-meaning hospital volunteer had said that to him when she'd sat with him while he'd been catatonic, telling him how they mean he's a survivor. He hadn't wanted to hear it then, and he doubts Stiles wants to hear it now.

Instead, Peter leans forward, pressing his lips to to tip of a scar over Stiles' shoulder blade. Stiles jerks but doesn't pull away. Peter kisses down the scar until it tapers off, giving way to unmarked skin near Stiles' spine. Stiles shudders, some of the tension seeping out of him under Peter's touch.

"You're still just as beautiful," Peter murmurs against his skin. 

"They're ugly," Stiles says.

"But you aren't," Peter says.

"I don't want anyone to see them," Stiles says.

"I know. I know what it's like to have scars, Stiles," Peter reminds him.

Stiles winces. "Yours healed," Stiles says. "Yours weren't put there by someone who's supposed to love you."

Peter frowns. He'd assumed as much, but hearing it confirmed doesn't sit right with him. 

"A parent?" he asks delicately. 

Stiles nods. "My mom," he says, voice hollow. "She...she wasn't herself for a while before she was hospitalized. When I made her mad, she'd get a belt and...well."

Peter hums and tugs Stiles to him, wrapping his arms around him torso. Stiles leans back into the touch, twisting his head so he can bury his face in Peter's neck. Peter lets him, holding him tightly. Neither of them speak for a long time and Peter wishes he could take Stiles' scars as well as his pain.

"I want to get them tattooed over," Stiles says. "But that's expensive, and I already have medical bills and paying for college and car repairs - "

"I can take care of that," Peter interrupts. Stiles looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. "I would pay for all of it, though I know you won't let me. If you'd allow it, I'd pay for whatever tattoo you want."

Stiles swallows hard and nods. "Maybe," he says. "I don't know. Can we - can we just go to bed?"

"Of course," Peter says.

Stiles ends up wearing one of Peter's t-shirts to bed, but he lets Peter rest a warm hand on the small of his back under the fabric. Peter thinks it counts as progress.


	23. Peter/Stiles, Against a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23 - against a wall

Stiles loves a lot of things about dating a werewolf. He loves the providing and possessive thing, mostly because he's the exact same way. He loves when Peter flashes fangs and drops his claws, making whatever they're fighting this week tense and run in terror. But he especially loves the werewolf strength. A+ sex material, right there.

Right now, Peter has him pinned against the wall, and Stiles does mean pinned. He's held up off the ground, his legs wrapped around Peter's waist. He's clutching at Peter's biceps, moaning obscenely as he's pounded into. Peter could hold him like this for hours and Stiles really, really likes that, likes the reminder that the man he's fucking is otherworldly, is something supernatural and mythical. 

Stiles moans and tilts his head back, letting Peter bite at his neck, licking and sucking a deep mark into his skin. Peter's grunting as he thrusts up into Stiles' wet hole, holding Stiles in place as he slams into him. It's so fucking hot, especially with the drag of Peter's muscled torso over Stiles' cock, that it's hard for him to control himself. He doesn't want to come too soon, wants this to last for as long as possible, but he doesn't think that's going to happen.

"Such a kinky little thing," Peter says, pressing his claws against Stiles' ass, just this side of drawing blood. Stiles moans, tightening around Peter's thick cock. "You love this, love being used and fucked by something like me. Love being a werewolf's bitch."

"Peter," Stiles whines, nails digging into Peter's arms. 

Peter growls deep in his throat and tightens his grip on Stiles' ass, lifting and dropping him onto his cock as he fucks him faster. Stiles mewls in pleasure, the friction on his cock and pressure on his prostate exquisite. 

Peter's close, Stiles can tell by the way his hips start stuttering, how he buries his face in the crook of Stiles' neck. Stiles reaches between them, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and strokes himself quickly. He wants to come with Peter's thick cock inside him, wants to clench around his length. 

"That's it," Peter growls. "Come for me, Stiles."

Stiles is helpless to Peter's demands and shouts, coming over their bellies. His ass spasms around Peter's cock, making him hiss and fuck into Stiles faster. He's brutal and relentless, taking his pleasure from Stiles' fucked out body, and it's only minutes before he's stilling, cock jerking as he empties inside of Stiles.

They stand there for a moment, Stiles pressed up against the wall, Peter's teeth at his throat, before Peter softens enough to slip out of Stiles, making him groan. Peter chuckles and readjusts his grip, then walks them back to the bed, Stiles still wrapped in his arms. 

Stiles sighs as Peter sets him down on the silky sheets before crawling into bed next to him.

"Love you, big bad wolf," Stiles murmurs.

"Love you, too, sweetheart."


	24. Peter/Stiles, Exhibitionism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24 - exhibitionism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This includes public sex and paddling, just FYI.

"Remember, you safeword at any time and this all stops," Peter murmurs.

"I know," Stiles says. "I'm good."

"Good," Peter says, kissing Stiles' forehead and stepping back. 

Stiles is a bundle of nervous energy, but his cock is already half hard between his thighs. They're at the Dungeon, a private kink club, and Stiles is bent over a padded bench, his bare ass exposed, wrists tied down. They're in a secluded corner of the club, but there are still at least a dozen patrons gathered around them, ready to watch Stiles' daddy paddle his ass.

Peter had dressed them both for the night and Stiles though he would be a little out of place in his tight leather pants and clingy black, mesh shirt, but he looks positively conservative compared to some. There's a woman watching who's wearing a high-end set of lingerie and high heels with a man kneeling at her side in nothing but a pair of briefs. Another woman is in just a thong and pasties. Next to her is a man in a full three-piece suit. So Stiles is pretty sure no one would look out of place, they're all dressed in a nice mish-mash of styles. 

Not that Stiles can see any of them now. No, his view is of the dark blue curtains covering the wall in front of him. His face is flushed red, knowing exactly how he looks, exposed to all the people watching him. Peter is possessive, doesn't like anyone else touching him, but he likes them to look, gets off on them watching him play with what's his.

The first swat with the paddle is tame, just a nice warm up slap to get him ready. The paddle is new, a nice, expensive silicone one they'd just picked up earlier in the day. It's heftier than the one they've been using up to now and even just testing it by slapping it on Stiles' forearm had left a beautiful red mark, sending thrills down Stiles' spine.

Peter brings down the paddle again, making Stiles jerk in his bonds. His cock is fully hard now, leaking precome already. Peter swats him again, harder, and Stiles whines high in his throat. The silicone has more of a sting than the plastic paddle does, and it makes Stiles squirm in pleasure. Peter doesn't tell him to keep still, likes watching him struggle.

There are appreciative murmurs from the gathered club goers as Peter hits him again. A second later, Peter's hand is caressing Stiles' ass, soothing over the throbbing skin. His hands disappears and the paddle comes down on his ass again, on the other side this time. Stiles knows how he looks, how red and bright his usually pale skin must be. There's a moan behind him and Stiles is pretty sure that's the sound of a zipper going down, and that just makes him harder, knowing someone is getting off to watching him.

Peter brings the paddle down hard on the back of Stiles' thigh, making him shout in surprise. Peter chuckles and does the same to the other side, warming and reddening the skin. Stiles squirms with each hit, but doesn't try to grind his cock against the bench. Peter wouldn't be impressed with that.

With each smack, Stiles' euphoria grows, the wonderful, floating feeling he gets when he enters subspace surrounding him. He's still aware of the hits of the paddle, feels every single one of them, but he's surround by warmth and pleasure. 

Stiles knows he's going to be sore tomorrow, that his ass will be dark with bruises and sitting is going to suck, but Peter will be there to ease the pain, to rub lotion on him and draw him a warm bath. Plus, Stiles likes the sting, like the reminder with every step, every time he sits, of what Peter's done to him.

Stiles cries out at a particularly hard smack, legs starting to tremble. His cock is so hard between his thighs and he's desperate, needing Peter to fuck him soon. He doesn't realize he's chanting _please, daddy_ under his breath until Peter is rubbing his hands over Stiles' raw ass, soothingly murmuring that it's okay, that he'll give Stiles what he needs. 

Peter spreads Stiles' cheeks wide, showing off his red, slick hole. They'd prepared him before leaving home, knowing how impatient and desperate Stiles would be. Peter roughly shoves two fingers inside Stiles' wet, loose hole, making him whine. He tries to press back into the touch, but he just has no leverage. Peter chuckles and swats his throbbing ass, making Stiles whine and tighten around his fingers.

"Such a good boy for me," Peter says and Stiles preens. He loves being a good boy for his daddy, loves that all the people watching know how good he is. 

There's the sound of a zipper being undone and the slick noise of Peter coating his cock in lube, then a moment later, the blunt tip of Peter's dick is pressing against Stiles' hole. He's slick and open, but it's still a stretch when Peter pushes his thick cock into him, the head popping through that tight ring of muscle. Stiles mewls, hands scrabbling for purchase on the soft leather of the bench.

Peter starts slowly, putting on a show for the people watching them. One hand is tight on Stiles' hip, the other pulling one cheek to the side, showing where he's fucking into Stiles' ass. Stiles' face is flushed red and he can't help the breathy, needy noises escaping him. There's the slick sounds of skin of skin around them and he's sure at least one couple is having some kind of sex behind him, all because of watching Peter play with him. 

Stiles' cock jerks between his thighs, brushing the edge of the bench with each thrust. Peter's picking up speed, moving from a lazy pace to a faster, rougher rhythm. Stiles can come untouched this way, especially with how the angle forcing Peter's cock over his prostate with each thrust. He's trying to hold back though, knowing he doesn't have permission to come, but it's so hard with the delicious slide of Peter inside him, with the noises of people having sex around, knowing they're getting off on watching him.

"Come when you can, baby boy," Peter says, thrusting into Stiles particularly hard, grinding his cock inside of him.

Stiles sobs out, "Thank you, daddy," and ruts into Peter's thrusts, futilely trying to get more stimulation. 

Peter's fucking him faster, brutal thrusts, hips slamming into Stiles' sore, bruised ass. It makes him wail, makes him clench tighter around Peter's cock. His orgasm surprises him, pleasure bursting through him out of nowhere and crashing over him in waves. He cries out Peter's name, legs shaking as Peter fucks him through it, drawing out his pleasure. 

Peter pulls out when Stiles gets too oversensitive, jacking his cock quickly. Stiles can't turn his head enough to see, even if he could muster the strength, but he recognizes the sound Peter makes when he comes and a second later, his wet release is splattering over Stiles' burning ass. 

There are various noises of approval around them, then the lights in their little alcove dim, giving Stiles and Peter some semblance of privacy while the people watching them disperse. Stiles jumps at the touch of a cool, wet cloth to his ass, soothing the sting and wiping away Peter's come. When he's done, Peter reaches between his legs, cleaning his thighs and groin with a warmer towel (thankfully).

Peter walks around the bench and unbuckles Stiles' wrists, massaging where Stiles had tugged against the restraints. Stiles lifts his gaze to Peter's, who's giving him a proud, approving look. He cups Stiles' cheek, brushing his thumb over his skin and Stiles sighs, pressing into the touch.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Peter murmurs. "Perfect for me. Everyone was so excited to see you."

Stiles hums, not quite up to talking yet, and glares when Peter takes his hand back. Peter chuckles but reaches out and helps Stiles up and off the bench. His knees are a little shaky from being in the same position for so long, but Peter guides him to the side of the alcove to where one of the vacant chairs sits. Peter takes a seat and pulls Stiles into his lap. Peter's still fully dressed, the soft fabric of his dress pants feeling rough against Stiles' abused ass.

"Shh," Peter says, running his hands up Stiles' body, knowing how needy Stiles is for touch after a scene like that. "It's okay, sweetheart. We'll calm down here for a while then head home. We'll get you a nice bath and into our soft bed soon."

That sounds good to Stiles, but he's happy here, face tucked into the crook of Peter's neck, Peter's chin resting on Stiles' head. He's still feeling floaty, but Peter's gently easing him back to Earth with calming touches and words of praise. Stiles sighs happily, tuning out the loud music of the club and voices around them, focusing on Peter's touch and words. This is their first time doing a public scene at the Dungeon and Stiles is sure it won't be the last.


	25. Stiles/Allison, Suspension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25 - suspension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So rope play isn't really my jam. I don't hate it, but it doesn't do anything for me and I think it's obvious with how I wrote this, but it's the best I could do. Sorry!

Allison isn't as knowledgeable about this as Stiles is. She doesn't know the names of the complicated knots, doesn't know what the name is of his favorite style of harness, or what kind of fancy rope they use. She knows the terms rope play, shibari and suspension, but this is really Stiles' arena. She knows she likes how he ties her, though.

Right now she's on her knees, her calves tied to the back of her thighs. Stiles is finishing an intricate harness that criss crosses over her chest. Two strands twist over her nipples, the pressure from the soft rope keeping them hard and tight. Her arms are bound behind her back and Stiles finishes the last knot, securing them in place. He's never clumsy when he does this for her. His long, capable fingers move confidently over the rope, knotting in strategic places. 

"Any pain? Is it pulling at your shoulders or elbows?" Stiles asks.

"No, I'm good," Allison says.

"Okay, good," Stiles says.

Stiles takes the rest of the rope trailing from the harness and slides it between her legs, the rope pressing against her clit. Allison gasps, heat gathering between her legs. He ties the rope around the back of the harness and she's completely bound, exquisite pressure on her clit and nipples. 

"I'm going to lift you now," Stiles says softly. Allison just nods, already drifting into that quiet place she goes when they do this.

The ceiling anchors Stiles has set up for this are strong, and so is he, so she isn't worried about falling. Stiles pulls the rope through the hooks on his ceiling and gently hoists her in the air. She swings for a moment, body settling in the harness' hold, before he stills her movements. 

Allison whines, the rope between her legs pressing against her hard, wet clit. She's suspended comfortably, no torque on her shoulders or anything, but it's still hard not to squirm with the way the rope is tight on her nipples, rubbing against her cunt.

Stiles chuckles, running his fingertips lightly down her stomach, just to the left of the rope. He trails his fingers between her legs, tracing where the wet lips of her cunt are spread by the rope. Allison closes her eyes, letting him touch her how he wants.

They spend time like this when they can. They both know what it is to be human around creatures that are vastly stronger than themselves. Stiles says they're team human and they need to unwind with someone who understands, and she absolutely agrees.

Stiles will get her off later, will press the wand vibrator to her aching cunt and she'll come apart, shaking in her bonds as she comes. But for now, they're both happy with just this. 

Stiles loves watching her like this, says she always looks like art, but even more so when there's rope decorating her. Allison keeps her eyes closed and hums contentedly as he touches her. He has plenty of patience when she's like this, and she lets herself enjoy the floating sensation filling her.


	26. Chris/Derek, Shotgunning; Peter/Stiles, Mirror Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26 - shotgunning, mirror sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one has recreational drug use. Be advised.

\---Shotgunning---

Beacon Hills is actually quiet. There are no new threats on the horizon and everyone has a chance to relax. Chris uses the downtime to smoke. He's had a lot of shit go wrong in his life and everything in the last few years has been stressful as hell, so he thinks he's earned the right to get high once in a while.

Derek is next to Chris on the couch, some trash police chase show on TV in front of them. Chris finishes rolling the joint, Derek's eyes lingering on his fingers' movements. Chris lights it and takes a deep drag, breathing in the smoke. He turns to Derek and cups a hand around the back of his neck. Derek's eyes flutter at the touch, like he's forcing himself to not let them close.

Chris lens in and presses his lips to Derek's. Derek immediately opens his mouth and Chris slowly exhales. Derek breathes in the smoke, eyes closing. Derek could smoke directly from the joint, but he likes it this way, likes shotgunning from Chris. He likes that in a half hour, when they're both pleasantly stoned, Chris will slip his hand into Derek's jeans, tug out his hard cock and languidly jack him until he's spilling with a cry. He likes that Chris will use his come to slick up his own cock, playing with himself roughly until he's coming with a grunt.

Chris takes another hit and Derek is already leaning in, lips parted and waiting. Chris grins and tangles his fingers in Derek's hair, tugging him closer. Derek lets out a whine and a second later, Chris' mouth is slotted against his. He breathes in the smoke and hums.

Chris loves that he has Derek like this, that the wolf trusts him enough to let his guard down in this way. They'd experimented with wolfsbane liquor once but they both prefer this, the lazy contact and relaxed atmosphere that they almost never get in their daily lives. 

Derek's been stressed lately, almost buzzing out of his skin, and Chris isn't surprised when Derek climbs into his lap, straddling his hips. Derek rolls his hips, grinding his hard cock against Chris'. Chris takes another hit and Derek dips down, presses his lips to Chris'. It's more of a kiss than a shotgun, smoke blowing out between Chris' lips as Derek hungrily licks into his mouth.

Chris rests his free hand on Derek's hip, pulling him down harder against him. His cock is hard in his jeans, pressing against Derek's, and it's easy to encourage him to grind harder. 

"That's it, baby," Chris murmurs. "Take what you need."

Derek whines, rolling his hips. Chris takes another hit before setting the joint on the sofa table next to him. He takes Derek's face in his hands and presses their lips together, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. Derek breathes in, then crashes his lips to Chris', desperate and needy.

Chris lets Derek rut against his cock, grabs his hips and thrusts up against him. He mouths at Derek's neck, digging his teeth into the soft flesh, and just like that, Derek stills, groaning as he comes in his jeans. Chris licks over the bite and Derek lets his head fall forward onto Chris' shoulder, body trembling.

Derek's bigger than Chris, he's taller and broader, but he still likes to curl around Chris like this and be held. Chris lets him, wraps his arms around him and runs a hand up and down his back. Derek will stand up in a few minutes and go clean up and slip into a pair of Chris' old sweats, but for now he needs this, and Chris is happy to oblige.

\---Mirror Sex---

Mirrors and Stiles haven't been on a first name basis since the nogitsune. When he looks, he sometimes doesn't see himself. He wonders if he's even really him or if this is just a clever copy. If he's really dead and just hasn't realized it yet. He expects to look in the mirror and see his reflection wink, the damn fox looking back at him.

And Peter notices, because Peter notices everything about Stiles.

Stiles frowns when he enters Peter's bedroom and sees the ornate, full-size floor mirror next to the bed. Peter steps up behind him and places his hands on his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"We're going to try something different today, baby boy," Peter murmurs in Stiles' ear.

Stiles shivers, always does when Peter turns on his daddy voice, but he can't help the apprehension.

"Like what?" Stiles asks warily. 

"Well, I'm going to start by opening you up slowly," Peter says, pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles' throat, "get your pretty little hole wet and ready for me. Then, when you're aching to be filled, I'm going to put you on your knees, and you're going to watch as I fuck you."

"Peter..." Stiles says. "I don't..."

"You know your safeword," Peter says. "And you can use it if you really don't want to do this. But I want you to see yourself as I do. I want you to see how gorgeous you are, how wonderful you look while you fall apart. I want you to see how perfect you are for me."

Stiles swallows hard. Peter doesn't push him forward, nor does he back away. He stays wrapped around Stiles' back, waiting for his decision. Stiles slowly nods. He feels Peter smile against his throat.

"Good boy," Peter praises. "Strip for me and lie on your back."

Stiles does, dropping his clothes into a pile next to the bed. He lies on his back in the middle of Peter's bed, watching as Peter grabs the lube from the bedside table and drops it onto the comforter next to Stiles' hip. A second later he's tugging his shirt over his head, exposing his broad, muscled chest. Stiles has seen Peter like this nearly every day for a year, but it still makes something in him fill with heat. 

Peter steps out of his shoes and pulls off his jeans. He looks ridiculously good naked and it's really not fair, especially considering how decidedly not muscular Stiles is, but Peter's made it very clear just how attracted he is to Stiles. Stiles needs to work on believing that. 

Peter's thick cock is already half hard between his thighs and Stiles spreads his legs wide, giving Peter the view he loves. Peter grins and crawls onto the bed, settling between Stiles' legs. He latches his mouth to the inside of Stiles' thigh, sucking and biting a bruise to the surface of the skin. Stiles cries out, hand tangling in Peter's hair. 

His eyes are closed, enjoying the sensation of Peter's mouth, so he startles when Peter's slick finger circles his rim. Peter chuckles and slowly pushes his finger in. It slips in easily, Stiles still a little loose from being fucked earlier, and soon Peter's worked up to two, then three. 

Stiles is panting, thighs trembling on either side of Peter. Peter knows exactly how to play his body, how to make him shake and writhe and whine. His wariness of the mirror is slowly disappearing under Peter's talented fingers and mouth.

"On your hands and knees for me," Peter says, withdrawing his fingers. 

Stiles whines, but does as he's told, rolling onto all fours. Peter presses the tip of his cock against Stiles' wet hole, but doesn't push forward yet. He runs a hand up Stiles' back and wraps it in his hair.

"Look up, sweetheart," Peter says. "I want you to watch us."

Stiles does as he's told and looks up into the mirror. Peter looks powerful behind him, strong and capable. Stiles' eyes look glazed with pleasure, face flushed, and he doesn't exactly think that's a good look, but Peter seems to disagree. 

Peter takes Stiles' hips and pushes in slowly, filling him with his thick cock. Stiles whines and wants to close his eyes, but he keeps them open like Peter says. He watches his own face morph at the pleasure, watches how Peter's mouth goes slack in bliss. 

"Look at you," Peter murmurs. "Look at how pretty you are taking my cock."

Stiles shakes his head and Peter just tuts. He wraps an arm around Stiles' chest and tugs him up until he's on his knees, back flush to Peter's front. The movement makes him sink even farther on Peter's cock and he cries out, grasping at Peter's arm.

"I want you to see what I see," Peter says, nipping at his ear. His hand trails up, wrapping gently around Stiles' throat. "I want you to see your beautiful skin, perfect for being marked up. Your lovely lithe body, taking what I give it so well. The way you flush so prettily for me. How your face lights up in pleasure when I do this."

Peter thrusts up, his cock brushing Stiles' prostate. Stiles whines, breath hitching, watching as his face goes slack with pleasure. He...is hesitant, but seeing himself through Peter's eyes...he's starting to believe it.

"Everything about you is perfect," Peter says, thrusting up again. "It's like you were made just for me. Everything I could ever want."

Peter stops talking then, thrusting up into Stiles' willing body with low grunts and growls. Stiles fights to keep his eyes open, because fuck, they do look good together. Peter's broad bulk framing Stiles' slighter frame, his large hand wrapped around Stiles' throat. Stiles' cock is hard and red, leaking precome. The heated look in Peter's eyes, matching the expression on Stiles' face...Stiles can see it. He can see what Peter likes.

Peter wraps his free hand around Stiles' cock, stroking him quickly, just the pace Stiles likes. He's still nailing Stiles' prostate on almost every thrust and it's not long before Stiles is tensing, body poised to orgasm.

"Keep your eyes open," Peter growls. "I want you to see how pretty you are when you come on my cock."

Stiles cries out, pleasure overflowing. He spills into Peter's hand, ass clenching around his cock. It's hard not to close his eyes in bliss, but he keeps them open, watches his face twist in pleasure, how his lip quivers, his cheeks flush. He looks fucked out and ruined and Peter hisses in appreciation, fucking into him faster.

Peter bites down on Stiles' neck as he comes, darkening the mark already there. His thick cock jerks inside Stiles, filling him up with his come. Stiles watches Peter face as he comes, watches his bliss written over his expression and is once again struck by how lucky he is that he gets to have him this way. 

Peter slides his hand away from Stiles' throat, letting him lie down on the bed. Peter collapses next to him, burying his face in Stiles' neck. They're both breathing harshly, still messy and shaking from their orgasms. 

"I love you," Stiles murmurs softly. "Thank you."

"I love you, too," Peter says. "And you'll never have to thank me."


	27. Lydia/Cora, Temperature Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27 - temperature play

Lydia's wearing nothing but a blindfold, her wrists and ankles strapped to her bed. She breathes deeply, straining to hear movement around her, but she knows that if Cora wants to be silent, she will be. Despite knowing it's coming, she startles a bit when the bed dips down next to her, Cora sitting on the mattress.

"Just me, princess," Cora says. It should sound mocking, it does if anyone else ever calls her that, but for some reason when 'princess' slips out of Cora's mouth, it makes Lydia's body clench with need, warmth gathering between her thighs.

Cora's warm hands run up Lydia's spread legs, up her torso. Her thumbs brush Lydia's puffy nipples before trailing up, up her neck to cradle her face. A moment later, Cora's lips are pressing against hers in a soft kiss. Lydia kisses her back, wanting more, but Cora pulls away with a small laugh. 

"Ready?" Cora asks.

Lydia nods quickly. "Yes," she says.

"Good girl," Cora says.

The weight on the bed shifts and a second later, Lydia feels the first touch of ice dragging down the valley between her breasts. She knows it's coming but she gasps anyway, a trail of goosebumps following the ice cube's progress. Lydia shivers as Cora drags it down, circling her belly button before taking the ice away. 

The next touch of the ice is to her nipples, and Lydia cries out, arching her back into it. Cora circles the cube around her nipples, making them tight and hard. Lydia's cunt is throbbing between her legs, wetness seeping out of her and coating her thighs. She whimpers as Cora places the ice cub between her breasts and leaves it there, letting it melt on her, trickles of water dripping down her sides. 

The bed shifts and Lydia tries to keep relaxed, but it's hard when she doesn't know what's coming next, when she can't see what her girlfriend is doing. Cora kisses Lydia's cheek and a second later, presses an ice cube against her hard little clit. Lydia wails, thrashing in her bonds. She doesn't know if she's trying to get away and trying to get more, all she knows is the cold pressing against her clit is something she's never felt, stimulation she's never had, and her body doesn't know what to do with it. 

Cora hums and drags the ice cube up and down Lydia's labia, the melting water dripping down her lips, before slowly parting her folds and pressing it inside her hot cunt. Lydia writhes at the sensation, arousal spiking. It doesn't take long for the heat of her pussy to melt the ice and it leaves Lydia desperate to be touched, whining high in her throat. 

"Cora," she whines. "Please."

Cora hums, but then her hot mouth is between Lydia's thighs. Lydia groans, legs trembling as Cora's tongue, so warm compared to the ice, circles her hard clit, flicking over the little bundle of nerves. Cora dips down, pressing her tongue as deep into Lydia's slick opening as she can, adding a whole new element to the lingering tingle of the cold.

Lydia arches her back, silently begging for more as Cora licks at her lazily, a pace she knows won't get Lydia off. Cora hums around Lydia's clit, making her whimper, then takes pity of her, slipping two fingers into her needy cunt. Lydia cries out in pleasure as Cora presses them against her g-spot, sucking on her hard clit. 

Lydia's orgasm comes quickly, rushing through her as she gushes around Cora's fingers, soaking the bedspread between her thighs. Cora doesn't let up, fucking her fingers into Lydia faster, her mouth still on her clit. Cora's never satisfied with only one orgasm, isn't happy until Lydia's had at least two and can barely string two words together.

Lydia's so sensitive after she comes that it only takes a few minutes of Cora's fingers and clever tongue until she's shuddering through her second orgasm, cunt clenching around Cora's fingers, the throbbing ache between her thighs making her tremble.

Cora can tell she's had enough and pulls away. The restraints around her ankles fall away, followed by the ties holding her wrists to the headboard. Cora gently touches the edges of the blindfold, letting Lydia know that it's coming off. Lydia closes her eyes as Cora eases it off and when she blinks her eyes open, Cora's looking down at her with a smile, her mouth wet from Lydia's pussy.

"You were lovely," Cora says, running her fingers through Lydia's hair.

"Come down here," Lydia says, tugging Cora until she's lying down, their bodies wrapped together. Lydia sighs and nuzzles against Cora's neck, enjoying the way her entire body is still tingly and sensitive. "I need a couple minutes, then I'll get you off."

"That's fine, Princess," Cora says, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Take all the time you need."


	28. Peter/Stiles, Xenophilia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28 - xenophilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be very clear, this is Stiles getting fucked by Peter while he's in a full wolf shift. Be advised.

Peter gets his full alpha shift and Stiles is so here for it. He's always loved Peter's animalistic nature, especially in bed. He loves when the fangs and claws come out, when Peter flashes his eyes and fucks him in the beta shift. But this...is a whole new can of worms, and as soon as the shock and awe of seeing Peter in his new wolf form wear off and Stiles is alone in the privacy of his room, the possibilities come to him. It takes less than a minute of stroking himself before he's coming to the mental image of Peter in his full-wolf shift fucking him.

It takes Peter less than a week to figure out what has Stiles all hot and bothered, and less than an hour to convince him what they can do about it.

That's how Stiles ends up here, naked in the middle of Peter's bed. He's on his hands and knees, his ass in the air. His hole is wet and loose, Stiles having worked himself open _very_ thoroughly. Peter's cock is thick in general, but apparently it's even bigger in his wolf form, and he has a knot. So, preparation. 

The clacking sound of Peter's nails on the floor lets Stiles know he's already shifted. Stiles swallows hard, his cock already full between his legs. He arches his back, presenting to his mate, and shudders when the wolf behind him lets an appreciative growl. 

The bed moves a bit as Peter jumps up. Stiles looks over his shoulder and his breath catches. Peter's full shift is huge, the wolf easily dwarfing him, especially when he's on all fours like this. Peter looks like strength and power and Stiles' cock is so hard it nearly hurts. His eyes are glowing alpha red, which still makes something in Stiles clench in excitement.

Peter opens his muzzle and licks over Stiles' hole making him gasp. He lets his head hang between his shoulders, eyes closing in pleasure as the wolf tongue laves over his wet hole. This is so different from when Peter rims him, his tongue longer in this form and is able to get deeper inside Stiles. 

Stiles is rocking back, trying to get more, when Peter pulls back. Stiles whines, missing his dexterous tongue. Peter whuffs what could be a laugh and nips lightly at Stiles' ass then rears up, mounting him. His huge paws wrap around Stiles' waist and Stiles has to brace himself because fuck, he's heavy like this.

Peter's cock is long and tapered, the hard tip pressing against Stiles' ass. He ruts against Stiles, all animalistic need, until his cock catches on Stiles' rim and he thrusts inside in one long, hard stroke. Stiles shouts, arms almost giving out because _fuck_ that's a lot. Peter's huge like this, cock thicker than usual and longer, pressing in deeper than Stiles has ever had him. 

Peter doesn't give Stiles time to adjust, just ruts into him viciously, chasing his pleasure. His fur is soft against Stiles' back, his paws tight around his waist and Stiles can't believe they're doing this, that his werewolf boyfriend is willing to let Stiles' fantasy come true.

Stiles loves being used like this, loves Peter fucking his willing body brutally fast, thrusting the thick wolf cock deep in him. Peter growls low in his throat and the sound makes Stiles shiver, his cock twitching between his legs. He wants to touch himself so badly but knows he's going to come as soon as he does. He wants this to last. 

Peter's thrusts get rougher, snapping his hips forward and burying himself ever deeper. That's when Stiles can feel the base on Peter's cock thicken, spreading his abused hole even wider. Peter doesn't stop, keeps fucking him hard with the forming knot. It's so much, much thicker than when Peter had fisted him, and Stiles thinks he's going to fly apart, that his body won't be able to take it but fuck, it's so good.

As soon the pleasure/pain is about to hit too much, Peter's locked inside him, thick cock stuffed deep in Stiles' ass. Peter ruts against him as much as he can, grinding his wolf dick into Stiles until with a roar, he's coming, cock jerking as he fills Stiles' bowels with his seed. 

Stiles cries out, overwhelmingly full, and squeezes around Peter, trying to milk his cock for as much come as he can. Peter's knot is pressing right up against Stiles' prostate and he drops to one arm, wrapping his hand around his leaking erection. It takes less than ten strokes before Stiles is coming with a shout, used hole spasming around the huge cock filling him.

Stiles' whole body is trembling, pleasure coursing through him. His hole is going to be wrecked after this, slack and gaping, leaking Peter's come everywhere. Peter licks at the side of his face, nuzzling against him.

"I'm good," Stiles says, voice hoarse from shouting. "I'm fine, promise."

Peter seems mollified at that, but won't stop rubbing his muzzle against the side of Stiles' face, making sure their scents are as mixed as possible. 

The luxurious fur at Stiles' back starts to recede, replaced by warm skin. The paws around his waist change to hands. Peter's cock is still locked deep inside him, but it's not as huge as it was a moment ago. 

Peter gently rolls them to their sides, jostling the knot plugging Stiles up. Stiles mewls at the movement and Peter shushes him, pressing his lips to the back of Stiles' neck.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Peter says, running his hand up and down Stiles' side. "You took your alpha so well. You're so good for me."

"We need to do that again," Stiles says, eyes closed. "That's...wow."

"I'll take you like this as often as you like," Peter murmurs against his skin. "Such a perfect mate."


	29. Peter/Erica, Omorashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29 - omorashi

Peter gets the text from Erica in the middle of his meeting. He doesn't check it for ten minutes, not until he can do it without the client noticing. He's glad he waited until the man went to pull something of his briefcase to glance down at his phone because he can't contain his smirk.

_From: Baby Girl  
Daddy, may I please use the bathroom?_

**To: Baby Girl  
No. Go to the kitchen and get a glass of water. Fill it up to the top, no skimping. Drink that and wait for me to come home.**

His phone buzzes again, but his client found the file and Peter puts the phone back in his pocket, giving the man his undivided attention. Well, undivided is strong word. He has to ignore the way his cock is chubbing up in his pants at the thought of his baby girl at home, squirming on his couch, trying to keep from pissing herself.

His client takes entirely too long to leave, trying to make small talk when they're done, until Peter politely but firmly leads him out of his office. When he is alone and can look back down at his phone, he nearly groans.

_From: Baby Girl  
But daddy! I don't know if I can hold it!_

**To: Baby Girl  
You had better. You know the consequences if you don't.**

Peter technically has another few hours of work left, but one of the perks of being the boss is that he can leave when he wants. He doesn't tell Erica that he's coming home though. He wants her desperate, not knowing when she'll get her release. He gets one last text before he gets in the car, saying _Yes, daddy._ He responds with **Good girl.** and sets his phone down to drive.

He's half-hard in his pants, excited for what he'll find when he gets home. Erica doesn't work today and he's had her on a very strict schedule of what to drink and when. And he's forbidden her from using the bathroom unless he specifically gives her permission. 

Peter's hard the entire drive home and takes a moment after he parks to take a deep breath. He can hear Erica's heartbeat inside the house, can hear how it's elevated, like it gets when she's desperate. Peter grins and gets out of the car, slowly making his way to the front door. He takes his time unlocking it, knowing how much it teases her.

When he opens the door, Erica is sitting on the couch where she can see out the window, obviously having watched for his car. She's rocking on the couch, clenching her thighs tightly together, as if that'll help the pressure of her bladder. She's wearing nothing but a t-shirt of his and her hot pink panties.

"Look at you," Peter says. 

Peter takes his time taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket. Erica bites her lip, eyes pleading as he slowly rolls up his shirt sleeves and walks over to her. He sits on the couch at her side, placing a hand high on her thigh, making her eyes close.

"Someone's desperate," Peter comments, dragging his finger up her inner thigh, brushing against her panties. The crotch is soaked from her arousal and Peter drags his thumb over her hard little clit, making her whine."Have you been a good girl for me?"

"Yes," Erica says with a whimper.

"You drank all your water?" Peter asks. Erica nods. "You haven't used the restroom, have you?" Erica shakes her head. "Did you put the special sheets on the bed?" Erica nods. "Good girl."

Peter sets his hand on her lower stomach, right over her bladder. He doesn't press hard, but he can still feel the little bulge there, and Erica whines, legs clamping closed. Peter chuckles and removes his hand.

"Okay, baby girl. Go into the bedroom, strip, and get on the bed for me," Peter orders.

Erica carefully stands, eyes closing as all that liquid sloshes around insider her, and takes slow, careful steps down the hall to Peter's room. Peter takes the time to fill up a small cup of water before he follows her. 

Erica is where he told her to be, naked and lying on the bed, body pale against the black rubber sheets. Her legs are still pressed together. As soon as she sees the cup in Peter's hand, she shakes her head violently. 

"I can't," she whines.

"You can and you will," Peter says firmly. 

Peter hands her the glass of water to hold and and strips down to his boxer briefs before sliding behind her on the bed, tugging her up until she's reclined against the front of his body between his legs. He reaches around to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hard little nipples. Erica whimpers, thighs squeezing together. Peter hums and runs his hands down her torso, resting over the little bulge in her belly where her bladder is full. Erica cries out, trembling in his arms.

"What you're going to do," Peter murmurs in her ear, "is drink that cup of water. Only when you're done will I play with that pretty, dripping pussy of yours. One you come, you can piss like the little pisswhore you are."

Erica's taking deep breaths, trying to control herself, and Peter idly wonders if she'll be able to do it, if she'll be able to finish the cup of water without pissing all over herself. He's sure running his hands over her belly won't help, but he can't help himself, loves feeling her squirmy and desperate.

Erica takes a deep breath and brings the cup of water to her lips. Peter wonders if she's going to chug it or try to sip it slowly. The slower she drinks it, the longer she prolongs this, and she knows it. She downs the cup of water in a few seconds, whining when she's done. Peter takes the empty cup and sets it on the nightstand and reaches between her legs.

Erica's cunt is soaked, her inner thighs smeared with her juices. Her little clit is hard, pussy swollen with need. She gasps, thighs clamped tight, trapping his hand between her thighs. That's fine, he still is able to rub over her clit, making her whimper and throw her head back onto his shoulder. Peter nips at her neck, sucking a mark to her skin that will fade in minutes as he moves his fingers between her legs. She's shaking in his arms, squirming in his grip, like she isn't sure if she wants to press into the touch or pull away. 

"Don't fight it, little one," Peter murmurs. "Let yourself come. As soon as you come, you can let it go. You just have to let yourself come."

Erica shakes her head, hard to override years of training to not pee anywhere but the bathroom, and Peter tuts. He massages around her clit quicker, coaxing pleasure from her. She's tensing in his arms, hips rolling into his movements until she's coming with a cry of his name, cunt pulsing under his hand. Peter presses hard on her bladder right when her orgasm hits her and Erica shrieks his name, warm piss flowing out of her as she comes.

"Look at you," Peter murmurs, keeping his fingers on her clit. "Such a pretty little piss whore, can't help from wetting yourself."

Erica whimpers, unable to stop from pissing now that she's started, confused pleasure and humiliation coursing through her. Peter loves it that way, wants her to associate a full bladder with pleasure, wants her even more turned on than she already gets when she's desperate and full. Soon he'll have her cunt getting wet when he does something as simple as hand her a glass of water. He can't wait.


	30. Chris/Melissa, Toys and Cunnilingus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30 - toys and cunnilingus

Chris' favorite place in the world is right here between Melissa's legs. The insides of her thighs are already red and raw from his beard, but her hand wrapped in his hair tugs him closer instead of pushing him away. Bitten off moans are escaping her and Chris is trying to break her of that habit, wanting to hear her as loud as she wants. 

When they'd first started this, when he'd first taken her to bed and spent hours worshiping her body, brought her off over and over again with his mouth and fingers before even sliding into her, she'd been shocked. She'd told him she'd never had it like that, that her ex-husband had done the bare minimum to get her wet before jack rabbiting for a few minutes inside her, then rolling over and going to sleep. She got off maybe half the time, if she were lucky.

And well, that just is unacceptable. Chris has made it his mission to introduce her to as much as he can, to show her exactly what he can do for her and to her. He's easing her in slowly. She likes being blindfolded and having her wrists tied to the headboard. She's not a fan of impact play in general, though she loves when he slaps her ass. She loves the expensive lingerie he's bought her, and wearing it for him.

Now, Chris has Melissa spread out on his bed, completely bare. He's mouthing at her wet cunt, flicking his tongue over her hard clit. She has one hand wrapped in his hair, the other is caressing her own breast, gently brushing at her sensitive nipple. She moans loudly as he sucks hard on her clit, drawing the nub between his lips. He can spend hours like this, eating her out until the bed is soaked beneath her, her cunt red and swollen from use. 

"Chris," she breathes, and he loves hearing his name fall from her lips.

"I have you," he murmurs against her slick folds. 

Chris presses a kiss over her clit and pulls back just enough to reach for the toy on the bed next to her hip. It's a high-end Lelo product, hot pink with a wicked curve meant to press against her g-spot. She'd balked at the price, but Chris hadn't hesitated for a second. He wants to see how she falls apart with it inside her. He rubs the toy up and down her labia, coating it with her wetness, and slowly slides it into her. Melissa moans as he rubs the toy over her g-spot, something she said Rafe had never been able to find, let alone play with.

He presses the button on the bottom of the toy and it buzzes to life, vibrating insistently against her g-spot. Melissa cries out, back arching off the bed. Chris smirks and turns the vibration up higher. He knows her, knows her body, and he's sure he can make her squirt if he does this just right. The toy is new, not something they've used before, and by the way she's writhing on the bed, Chris is sure it's one they'll be using often. 

Chris keeps the toy angled up, constant vibrating pressure on her g-spot, and drops his mouth back down to her cunt. He nips at her folds, tracing around her clit with his tongue before licking over it, undulating quickly over that sensitive bundle of nerves. Melissa's thighs are quivering on either side of his head and he can tell she's close, can read it in the way her cunt is throbbing, how her breaths get shorter. Chris closes his lips around her clit and sucks gently, coaxing her to orgasm.

Melissa's hand tightens nearly painfully in his hair as she comes, gushing around the toy inside her. She cries out his name, thighs spasming as she rocks against him, pleasure coursing through her. Chris keeps his mouth on her, keeps the toy nestled inside her until she's pushing him away, getting too close to overstimulation. Chris kisses the inside of her thigh and turns off the toy, carefully withdrawing it and setting it aside to clean later. 

Melissa's skin is glistening with sweat, her eyes lidded with pleasure, but Chris isn't done with her yet. He gives her a few minutes to recover, running calloused hands over her soft skin, then pulls out the second toy they'd bought earlier, a We-Vibe. He's excited about this one, excited about the possibilities. It's a soft silicone toy almost in the shape of the letter 'c', one thin end sliding inside her and pressing against her g-spot, the other resting outside, over her clit. Chris can control it from his phone no matter where they car. He can slip it up inside of her before they go out to dinner and with a tap to his phone, it'll be vibrating in her. He can imagine how she'll look, flushed and biting her lips, clenching her napkin and trying not to make it obvious that she's about to come at the table. 

That's not the main point of the toy, though. No, it's designed so that the wearer can be fucked with it in. Chris will be able to slide his cock into her and with every thrust, push that vibrating toy against her sensitive g-spot until she's screaming under him. Chris doesn't turn the toy on yet, just slips it inside her, making sure it's resting comfortably against her g-spot and over her clit. Melissa whimpers, but doesn't try to move away.

Chris stands, tugging his shirt over his head. Melissa watches, biting her lip as he strips. He knows he isn't as young as he used to be, and he's stupidly pleased that just seeing him can put that look on her face, one so hungry. He can understand, he has the same look whenever he lays eyes on her. Her gaze lands on his cock, hard and red against his belly, as he steps out of his jeans and boxers. She'd been fascinated at first that he gets so hard just by eating her out and playing with her perfect cunt. 

"Ready, baby?" he asks.

Melissa nods, making him grin. He pulls up the app on his phone and with the hit of a button, the toy is vibrating inside her and against her clit, pulsating at a random pattern (her favorite). Melissa bites her lip, little whimpers escaping her. Chris kneels between her legs, spreading her thighs wide. He brushes the tip of his cock against her opening, nudging at her dripping hole. Her cunt is wet and open, he'd worked her open for over an hour, so it's easy to slide his cock inside of her.

Melissa gasps, clutching at wrist. He turns his hand and tangles his fingers with hers as he pushes all the way in. Her perfect pussy is warm and wet, fluttering around him as his cock forces the toy against her g-spot. He keeps his fingers wrapped around hers and rests the other hand on her waist, rolling his hips, grinding his cock into her. Melissa wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him closer. Chris starts slowly, letting her get used to the feeling of him and the toy in her, but it doesn't take long for her to rock up into his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck her harder. 

Chris leans over her, propping himself up on his elbow so he can kiss her hungrily, thrusting roughly into her wet, clinging cunt. She kisses him back as best she can, but between the buzzing against her clit and g-spot and his hard, pounding thrusts, she ends up moaning against his lips, clutching at his shoulders. Chris can feel his own orgasm coming, her velvety pussy and the vibrating both exquisite against his cock, but he refuses to come until she does again. He drags his hand up her torso, massaging her soft breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple. He knows how sensitive she is here, has almost made her come just from playing with her tits, and he's rewarded with her cunt tightening around him, her breathy moans getting a higher and closer together until she's shrieking his name, thrashing under him as she comes.

Chris fucks her through it, draws out her pleasure as long as he can, until she's pushing at the toy, the vibrations too much against her oversensitive clit. Chris pulls out just long enough to pull the toy out of her, then slams back in, fucking her quick and rough. Her fluttering cunt is soaked, making obscene, squelching noises with each thrust.

"Come on," she gasps, tilting her hips up into his thrusts. "Come on, Chris. Come inside me."

Chris growls out her name as he comes, pleasure bursting across his senses as he empties deep inside her. He stills, still buried inside her, his forehead resting against hers. Melissa wraps her arms around his neck, both of them breathing harshly, little aftershocks making both of them tremble. Chris dips his head down, kissing her tenderly, before slowly pulling out. Her cunt is messy, their releases dripping out of her and coating the bed and her thighs, but she'd confessed to him that she likes how that feels, likes the evidence of their pleasure. Chris rolls onto his back and tugs her to him, out of the wet spot on the sheets. 

"Verdict?" he asks her.

"Worth the money," she says, pressing a kiss to his chest before resting her head over his heart. "So, so worth the money."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is the Lelo Mona, the g-spot toy](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/G/01/aplusautomation/vendorimages/53535cc7-64f0-4f9f-8213-31cefa9367c0.jpg._CB302196552__SR300,300_.jpg) and [This is the We-Vibe](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81Qh-bhWvBL._SX355_.jpg)


	31. Peter/Stiles, Breeding and Come Inflation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31 - free day! I used it for cis female!Stiles, breeding, and come inflation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end! I managed to post something new each day of October! Wow I feel so accomplished.

Stiles is a trembling, oversensitive mess. Her little cunt is swollen and red from use, sloppy and leaking come. They've been at this for hours and she can't even remember how many loads Peter has left in her. As soon as she'd said she's ready, that she wants him to fill her up, _breed_ her, Peter had growled and pounced, fucking her against the wall in their kitchen (and she probably should have see that coming and told him near a bed). She's at least in their bed now, spread out on their soft sheets. Her body is glistening with sweat, the flush on her face spreading down to her chest. Every nerve ending feels alight, muscles weak. 

Peter's between her thighs, scooping up the come seeping out of her and feeding it back into her hot cunt. Her pussy is gaping, slack from how much it's taken, that she doesn't think it'll make a difference, his release will be dripping out of her soon anyway. Peter doesn't seem to care, getting as much come back into her as he can, sliding three thicker fingers into her to plug her up. Stiles mewls, shaking her head as he licks over her sensitive clit. Her ignores her, will continue to until he hears her safeword. Until then, she knows he'll be playing with her sloppy cunt as much as he wants.

"I want you to give me one more," Peter says.

"I can't," she whines. "Peter..."

"You can," Peter says.

Peter laves his tongue over her clit, massaging her g-spot with the fingers he has inside her. Stiles bites at her lower lip, kiss-swollen and raw. Everything between her legs is hot and throbbing, her inner thighs red and raw from Peter's stubble. She doubts she'll be able to walk tomorrow at all, not with how he's been using her. Peter licks and suckles at her clit just the way he knows will get her off, her thighs trembling on either side of him. Peter's done this before, has played with her greedy cunt until she was coming over and over, but it's never been like this. His eyes have never been quite this heated as he looks at her, his focus never quite this intense. 

Sometimes it's hard for her to come again so soon, but she's so turned on with what they're doing, what Peter's doing to her, knowing that he's trying to fuck a pup into her, that she comes again, screaming Peter's name. He keeps his mouth on her clit, fingers inside her, as she shakes apart, cunt clenching around Peter's fingers. Peter chuckles against her and she whines, oversensitive. He takes pity on her and presses a kiss to her inner thigh, letting her come down from her orgasm slowly.

"You've done so well," Peter says, rubbing his beard against her soft skin. "You've been so good for me, little one. I'm going to give you what you need."

Peter withdraws his fingers, making her groan, and crawls up her body, positioning the tip of his hard, thick cock at her entrance. Despite how used she is, how sore, she spreads her legs wider in welcome. She wants him inside her, wants that big cock fucking her full. Peter grins hungrily down at her and nudges his cock through her folds, slowing pushing into her. She's loose from how much she's been used, passage slick with his come, enough that it's easy for him to slide inside. He pauses, nestled deep inside her, running his big hands over her flat belly.

"Sweetheart," he says slowly, and her breath catches because she knows that voice, knows that whatever he says is going to make her heart beat faster. "I'm going to knot you now. I'm going to stretch out that pretty little cunt and _ruin_ you for anyone else but me. I'm going to fill you up, breed you full until you're round and fat with my pups."

Stiles whines, heat gathering between her legs despite how much she's already taken tonight. He's never knotted her before, always told her it's for breeding, that he didn't want to do it unless she were sure she wanted his pups. She's sure. She clenches around the thick cock inside her, moaning and digging her nails into his arms at his words. Peter grins, grinding his cock inside her, making her breath stutter. 

"Please," she moans. "Please give me your knot, Peter..."

"It'll be more comfortable for you if you're on your hands and knees," Peter says.

Stiles shakes her adamantly. "Maybe next time. I want to see your face the first time you knot me," she says.

Peter growls and grips her waist tightly, pulling out until just the tip is inside her, and slamming back in. Stiles screams, arching her back off the bed. Her pussy is sore and well-used, but she's a bit of pain slut as they've discovered, and it still feels incredible to have him pounding into her. Peter fucks her roughly, using her willing body, wet, squelching noises filling the room. 

Peter's murmuring filth to her about how good she's taking it, how he can't wait to see her swell with his pups, how he'll be able to suckle at her tits when they fill with milk. Stiles can't help but moan at the words, Peter playing on her biggest kinks. She wants it desperately, wants his thick knot in her loose, slutty hole. She wants to know what it is to be stuffed impossibly full. She's already addicted to Peter's cock and she doubts after this that she'll be able to crave anything else.

She knows that she's babbling and she can't stop it, pleading with Peter to stuff her full, to breed her until she reeks of him, until no one has any doubt of who she belongs to. Until his seed has taken hold in her, made her the mother of his pups.

Peter growls, eyes flashing blue and he fucks into her faster with an almost manic energy and she realizes he's been holding himself back, probably still is, out of the fear of hurting her. He's letting some of the animal out though, fucking her hard enough that her soft insides will be bruised and raw tomorrow. She also knows he'll spend hours between her thighs, softly licking her to orgasm, drawing out any pain she has.

It won't stop there, she knows. Once she's truly bred, her stomach rounding out with his pups, he won't be able to keep his hands off her. He'd confessed, while truly obliterated on wolfsbane whiskey, that it's his biggest fantasy, having her fat and full of him. That nothing turns him on more than the idea of breeding her sweet little body, that he wants nothing more than to take her apart and give her every pleasure she could want. Once he sees what he's done to her, he'll be insatiable. 

Peter's beyond the point of words, reduced to grunts and growls as he slams into her. He takes one of her long legs and throws it over his shoulder, letting him thrust even deeper into her dripping cunt. Stiles cries out, gripping at his wrists. He turns one hand, lettering her tangle her fingers with his, and somehow that makes it even more intimate, though she isn't sure why. 

Peter's able to grind into her harder this way, his pelvis rubbing her abused little clit on each thrust. His cock is pressing against her g-spot and despite how many times she's come, she can feel herself getting close again. He growls in approval, fucking her harder, using his free hand to circle her clit with careful fingers. 

"One more," he pants. "One more for me."

He won't come until she does, wants to come with her cunt clutching at his cock. He's never satisfied until she's come so many times that her legs shake, her breath hard to catch. She doesn't think it'll take much, not with how he's fucking into her, how sensitive and overwhelmed she is. 

She gasps when she realizes his cock is thickening, the base expanding as he fucks her. Her cunt is open and loose, but the expanding knot stretches her even further, spreading her soaked pussy wide. He fucks her with the half-formed knot, thicker than a soda can, making her writhe and whine until it's too big to pull out, locked inside her creamy cunt. 

Peter grinds the knot in her, rubbing her g-spot and clit at the same time. He takes her tits in his hands, twisting at her hard little nipples, murmuring about how he can't wait until they're full and leaking milk for him, and Stiles can't hold back anymore. She screams as she comes, cunt tightening down around the huge knot stuck inside her. It's pleasure she's never experienced, pussy pulsating as her orgasm crashes through her in waves.

Peter snarls and hunches over her, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of her. Their faces are inches apart and he fucks into her as best he can with his knot inside her, tugging at her sensitive walls. Her spasming pussy around him milks his orgasm from him and she can feel the moment his cock jerks inside her, first spurts of come filling her. 

Peter rests his forehead against hers, groaning as he comes, cock twitching as he empties into her. She's trembling under him, overwhelmed with how full she is, with how he's carving out a place for himself inside her. Even if this does take and she's bred after this, she wants to take his knot again because this isn't something that she thinks she can give up.

Peter carefully rolls them, making her whine as the knot tugs at her abused hole, until he's on his back, body splayed on top of him. He'd told her he comes a lot when he knots, but she hadn't known quite what that meant, hadn't known that he would still be coming over ten minutes later. Her normally flat belly is bloated, distended with the amount of come filling her. His knot is plugging her up, keeping all that thick, creamy come locked inside her.

Peter can't help but run his hands over the little bulge in her belly, pressing against it and making her moan. She knows he's imaging what she'll look like with her stomach rounder, full of pups. Twins run in his family, he'd told her, and she knows he hopes she'll carry multiple pups. She can't lie, she wants that, too. Peter won't be satisfied with breeding her once, will want to keep her full and round until their house is full of pups, and she agrees.

Peter finally stops coming a full fifteen minutes later and she's never been this full before, has never been stretched to these extremes. She knows that when they're done her cunt will be completely wrecked, slack and gaping from him, his come trickling out of her. Maybe he'll slip his fist inside her, keep as much come in her as he can, or slip in a toy, a thick plug to keep he open and ready for the next time he fucks her. She hopes so, hates the idea of being empty after this.

Peter lifts her face from where it's resting on his chest, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones, over the dried tear tracks. He knows they're not from pain, but he kisses over them anyway, gentling caressing her face as he does. She smiles down at him, knowing she probably looks completely debauched and fucked out. He grins back at her.

"You did so well, love," he says. "You're taking my knot so beautifully. Does it hurt?"

"Not badly," she says. "Mostly it's just a lot."

"I know," Peter says, smoothing his hands down her back. He dips he hand back between her legs, tracing over the stretched lips of her cunt, making her gasp. He chuckles, kissing her cheek. "Your little hole is so well-used. How long do you think it'll take for it to tighten up again? How long until you're not a gaping mess?"

She whines and despite herself, despite how used and sore and tired she is, it sends a pulse of heat between her thighs. Peter must smell the spike in her arousal because he grins up at her, grinding his softening knot inside her. Stiles pushes herself up off his chest until she's upright, straddling him and sinking even further down his cock. It makes her close her eyes at the sensation, getting used to him being settled even deeper. 

"Think you can go again?" she asks, rocking her hips, squeezing her cunt around the knot. Peter grips her waist, mouth dropping open. She smirks and does it again, clenches around the thick knot and making Peter's eyes close in pleasure. "If I keep doing this, will you come again? Will your knot stay hard and keep me full?"

"Yes," Peter growls, eyes flashing blue. "That's exactly what will happen if you milk my knot with that pretty little cunt of yours."

Stiles grins and rocks against him, his softening knot rubbing against her slick walls. Some of his come is leaking out around the knot and that's just not acceptable to her, she needs him fully enlarged, keeping her plugged up. 

Peter's hands on her hips are clawed, his eyes flashing blue and fangs dropping and Stiles loves that she's the one that does that to him, make that ironclad control slip. She squeezes her stretched cunt around his knot, milking it to hardness again as she rolls her hips, sighing happily once he's fully expanded inside her. God bless werewolf refractory periods.

Her clit is throbbing in need, red and swollen from how much she's been touched and used today. She reaches between her legs anyway, rubbing in careful, gentle circles. Peter's hands trail up her torso, cupping her full breasts, thumbing over her hard nipples. Stiles whines, the buds sore from how much he'd bitten and sucked them earlier, but it feels incredible, her nipples always a direct line of pleasure to her clit. 

It's takes a while for her pleasure to build again, her body wrung out from how much she's asked of it, but it's inevitable by now that she'll react to Peter's cock, to his hands on her, to being filled so completely. She feels owned by him, marked in a way that no one will ever be able to erase. And she knows he feels the same about her, like she's claimed him so thoroughly that no one will ever doubt that he belongs to her. 

Peter's hands tighten on her breasts, hips thrusting up into her as best she can. Stiles cries out, bracing herself on his firm abs she she rides him, mewling when she feels his cock jerk inside her again, feels the added pressure of more come flooding her insides. Her legs are trembling, thighs having trouble holding her up anymore, but she continues rocking against him, chasing her pleasure.

"That's it, love," Peter growls, twisting her sensitive nipples. "Take what you need. Let me feel that slutty little cunt come on my knot."

Stiles whines, rocking faster, rubbing her clit against him. "Peter," she whimpers. "I'm so close, I...Peter..."

"These are going to look so pretty swollen with milk, full and leaking," Peter says, squeezing her breasts. "I can't wait to drink from you, drain your pretty tits while our pup is growing big in your belly."

Stiles moans loudly, eyes fluttering shut. Her cunt is tightening up around him, his cock still spurting come in her. Her belly feels tight, the little bulge even bigger now, making it look like she's already pregnant. One of Peter's hands leaves her breast, dragging down her torso to rest on her distended stomach. His eyes are heated, taking in what he's done to her body. He presses against it, like he can feel his cock inside her and Stiles falters in her rhythm, the heat between her thighs growing.

Peter dips his hand between her legs, rubbing gentle fingers over her clit, giving her something more to grind on. Stiles shouts, her orgasm shocking her with its suddenness and intensity. Her thighs are shaking on either side of Peter, her cunt spasming desperately around his thick knot. Peter eases her through the aftershocks, not taking his hand away until she's pushing at it. 

Stiles collapses forward onto Peter's chest, whimpering at the way it makes his knot tug on her sensitive insides. Peter kisses the top of her head as she buries her face in his neck, whispering soft words of encouragement and praise. He tells her how perfect she is, how much he loves her, how well she's doing. Fine tremors are wracking her body and he rubs his hands up and down her back, soothing her. 

"I think you're done for today," Peter murmurs, nuzzling at the top of her head. 

Stiles nods against him, pressing a kiss to his chest. Her cunt is hot and throbbing between her legs, flesh swollen from how much she's been used. Peter dips a hand down, tracing where she's stretched around his knot. She whines high in her throat, but he shushes her.

"I'm just making sure there's no damage," he says. 

He probes for a few moments before pulling his hand away, making her relax. His cock is still twitching inside her, pumping his come into her belly. She knows she's fertile, she's been off her birth control for months and she's trusts Peter when he says he can smell she's ovulating. so she'll be shocked if she doesn't end up pregnant from all they've done today. Though she won't consider it a hardship if they have to keep doing this...preferably over and over again, in many different positions.

It takes nearly forty-five minutes before Peter's knot softens enough to slip out of her, followed by a rush of come. Stiles groans, feeling a little disoriented at being so achingly empty after having something in her for so long, though she knows she probably couldn't comfortably have anything else shoved inside her at the moment. 

Peter slides out from under her, making her grumble, and presses a kiss to her forehead before disappearing into the en suite. He returns a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth. He gently nudges Stiles into rolling over on her back and parts her thighs. His breath catches at the sight of how red and swollen she is, at his come still dripping out of her.

"I know, I'm a mess," she says.

"No," Peter says, shaking his head. "You're magnificent."

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she stays quiet. Peter carefully runs the damp cloth up her inner thighs, cleaning off traces of her wetness and his come. He's gentle when he cleans around her cunt, though it still makes her wince. The heat of the cloth is soothing though, even thought she's so sensitive and raw that the fabric almost feels abrasive. 

Peter finishes quickly, then cleans himself before crawling back into bed. He tugs Stiles to him, cradling her lithe body against his broad chest. Stiles hums and nuzzles at his throat, a habit she's picked up from him, and he rumbles happily in response. 

"You know, odds are that it took," Peter says, running hands up and down her back. Her discomfort is fading, leaving a pleasant ache between her legs, and she's sure if she looked, the veins in his arms would be black. "You more than likely will be carrying my pup."

Stiles smiles and props her chin on his chest, looking up at him. Peter cups the side of her face, brushing the hair off her cheek. 

"I know," she says.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com).


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